


My Contribution to the Minecraft Story Mode Fandom: Consisting of over a Hundred Ficlets

by Lunaraen



Category: Minecraft Story Mode
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 305
Words: 246,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaraen/pseuds/Lunaraen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These contain spoilers, different parings with every ficlet, the rating fluctuates from one to the next, and all are present for your general enjoyment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

Jesse looked over at the shivering Lukas, then at their dying fire. The dirt ground wasn’t doing much for them in the way of heat. If it weren’t for his friends, he didn’t doubt he’d be just as cold.

Thankfully, he had the best friends, and best pet pig, in the world, so he wasn’t. They were all huddled next to each other, Jesse himself in the middle with Reuben. Olivia was to his right, Axel on his left, all four of them bunched together. They didn’t have any blankets or warm beds, but they were making do.

They’d done this once before, a few years ago. They’d been camping, and their fire had died then too. The hut they’d been in back then had been smaller, simpler, but no less cold.

This time they were a bit more mussed up. Jesse felt the dried blood sticking in his hair, eyed the deep scratches and cuts on his brown skin. Reuben’s black eye was finally fading, but his friends were almost as bad as he was.

At least they were warm.

Olivia was asleep, her head resting on the likewise sleeping Reuben. Axel was snoring softly as he leaned up against the dirt wall, Jesse’s own head currently lying on his large arm.

Huh. So it looked like he was the only one left awake. Him and Lukas.

He gestured at Lukas to come over, trying to make the grin on his face big and friendly. Jesse hoped Lukas would trust him, but he’d understand why if he didn’t. Axel meant well, but it wasn’t Lukas’s fault Petra’d been left behind.

That was Jesse’s. He’d had a sword, he was right there, he could’ve done more.

If he’d been quicker, maybe…

He’d just have to hope that she was fine.

Lukas slowly walked over, nervously glancing at the others as they slept.

Lukas would warm up quickly and they’d all go to sleep cozy. Cozy as you could in a dirt hut, at least.

He carefully leaned up against Jesse, his skin feeling just as icy as he had looked.

The shifting was enough to make poor Reuben stir, who woke up with an oink of surprise that startled Olivia awake, her goggles almost falling off her head, and all of it made Axel straighten up and groggily open his eyes.

So much for being quiet.

“What the- Jesse?” Axel narrowed his eyes, his voice still thick with sleep. “What’s he doing here?”

As if they hadn’t all been sharing the same hut anyways.

Lukas narrowed his eyes back and opened his mouth.

Not again.

“Lukas was cold, so I invited him over.” Jesse chuckled, but he was tired. He’d had enough of this stupid fighting. He just wanted to sleep and wake up to tomorrow already. “Come on guys, it’s not like we’re not on the same team.”

Axel was scowling at the blond again, but he didn’t say anything else about it. He just mumbled good night and leaned back.

Olivia stopped glaring at Axel to give Lukas a tired smile. She lied back down, Reuben not having moved.

A few minutes later it was just as quiet as it had been. Jesse felt himself finally drifting off.

Only to jerk awake when Lukas spoke up.

“Thanks.” Lukas grinned at him, but it was small and he was fidgeting.

Jesse recalled how impressed Lukas had been when it came to how well their team worked together. He probably didn’t have anything like that back with the Ocelots.

He returned the smile.

“No problem.”

They’d work it out.


	2. Wither

She didn’t want to bother them. It was already bad enough they thought she was just under the weather- if they knew she had _wither_ sickness? Petra felt like a big enough of a load already.  
But Jesse- Jesse wouldn’t care. A nasty, wishful little part of her hoped that she would know what to do somehow, or that she wouldn’t make her stay behind. Realistically, neither were likely. How could Jesse, goofy Jesse that always meant well, know how to cure a sickness that not even the greatest minds or strongest bodies could fight?

For that matter, why would she keep Petra around if Jesse knew she’d just hold them back? They were trying to save the entire world, they couldn’t be slowed down.

But Petra wanted to tell somebody. Olivia was already suspicious, made that clear with all her glances and questions. Lukas was trying to give her her space, but he’d asked more than once already if she was alright. Even Axel, and the big guy was over the moon about finding Magnus by himself, had noticed.

Jesse was different. Or not. She probably wasn’t.

Petra sighed as she rubbed at her aching arm.

She was so tired. She just needed to get this off her chest. Petra didn’t feel that way often, only had once before when she did a deal. A deal that she’d told Jesse about, that had ended up letting that creep Ivor create the Witherstorm.

Jesse had told her it sounded shifty, and she’d been right. All of her deals were shifty though, so why would she be more wary of this one?

That was probably the biggest mistake Petra had made, the biggest in a long time.

If she wasn’t careful, she was going to make another one to top it.


	3. 78 (Jesse/Lukas)

78 times. Lukas had thought about kissing Jesse 78 times now.

78 times he’d almost done it only to chicken out at the last minute.

This was ridiculous.

Lukas had never been in a relationship before, hadn’t been attracted to anybody. Every single time he’d tried to go on a date, it’d ended with him being just friends with whoever it was. He just never felt that way about anybody.

Except for now, with Jesse. Jesse who didn’t blame him for freezing up, Jesse who’d insisted Lukas stay when he was ready to go freeze himself outside, Jesse who’d gone back to save him from the Iron Golem.

Lukas’d fallen hard, alright.

And he couldn’t even work up the nerve to kiss him.

How could he, though?

Lukas had never cared for their “rivalry”, but he still knew it wasn’t an easy thing to forget.

Nine years they’d gone up against each other, Lukas’s team trouncing Jesse’s every single time. They hadn’t exactly always been nice about it either. Lukas had tried to be quiet each year, he didn’t want to be a bragger, but Aiden never could keep his mouth shut.

And when Aiden opened that big fat mouth of his…

Jesse’s friends always got insulted. Jesse’s pig always got insulted. Jesse’s build always got insulted. Jesse always got insulted.

Nobody, not even Jesse, could be able to get over something like that so quickly. Certainly not to the point where it’d be okay to kiss him.

He’d already tried 78 times.

Lukas sighed to himself as he stopped building. He looked over at Jesse, who was oblivious to it all as he carried on preparing to go find Ellegaard with Olivia. Currently they were trying to figure out what they could take with them.

Jesse was also biting his lip. It was maddening how cute he could be when he wasn’t trying.

Maybe the 79th time was the charm?

Lukas walked over, trying to keep a nonchalant smile on his face.

Of course, Jesse was the first one to notice him.

“Hey Lukas, what’s up?” He tried not to fidget. Cool, calm, and relaxed. He could do this.

He could so not do this.

“Can I talk to you, Jesse?’”

“Sure!” Jesse stood up and brushed off his pants, saying a quick goodbye to Olivia as he did. She rolled her eyes, but she said goodbye back. As they walked away, he could’ve sworn she winked at them.

Lukas had a feeling she knew. Olivia always seemed to know these things, she was very perceptive.

She wasn’t anywhere near as forgiving as Jesse either. If she was happy with him, maybe it was good sign.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Green eyes bored into him.

Ah, never mind, there was that roadblock he kept hitting. Now he would just tell Jesse it was nothing, or he’d make something else up, and he’d do the same thing the 80th time, and the 90th, and this was just going to continue on forever. Or until the Witherstorm ate them all.

Before Lukas could say anything, though, Jesse kissed him.

It was on the mouth, quick and chaste.

His face felt like it was on fire.

“You’ve kind of been staring, and I sorta got tired of waiting.” Jesse paused and his face finally became just as red as Lukas knew his own was. “That _was_ okay, right?”

The kiss was different than Lukas had thought it would be. Not that he really had any idea what to expect, but…

“Yeah.” It was better. “Yeah, that was definitely okay.”


	4. Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before Episode Three.

Jesse brushed away her black hair and looked up as the Witherstorm shrieked. It was here; it had finally hunted them down.

Time was up.

This was it, they had one chance. It was either go big or go home, and none of them really had homes to go back to anymore.

The Witherstorm had almost eaten up the entire world. If it wasn’t tracking the amulet, it probably would have by now.

As it was, they were being tracked, so there were only huge rocky trails of death and destruction in its wake. Once it ate them, it would eat everything. The only real place left, that they knew of, was Redstonia.

For a while they’d considered going there, using whatever technology they could.

Unfortunately that would mean putting the few remaining alive people, because whatever the Witherstorm did to people most likely killed them, in immediate danger. No one wanted that.

Putting themselves in danger was far more acceptable.

They had lost so much by now that it almost felt like they really had nothing to lose.

Jesse looked at her worn-down friends. They would do this together. Either they would win or lose, but it would be as a team.

Jesse grimaced as she lifted more of the F-Bomb onto the gigantic catapult. There was a sharp pain in her back, but she couldn’t stop. No one could stop, even though every single one of them was bone tired.

This was their only hope.

The Witherstorm was almost upon them now, entire hills and trees being torn to shreds as it got closer.

Everyone held their breath as it fired, hitting the Witherstorm smack dab in the center. Its three heads roared as it fell to the ground, shaking everything once it hit.

Jesse looked down as she searched wildly with her eyes. Had they done it? Was it really gone? Already she was smiling, because it looked like they had really done it-

Oh.

Oh crap.

Out from the smoke rose the Witherstorm, battered but still alive.

Alive and now very, very angry.

Then there was a moment of burning pain that made her body writhe and made her scream. She didn’t hear the Witherstorm as it screeched, or her friends as they screamed in agony. She didn’t even hear her own screams. Everything was drowned out by the white hot suffering.

Then there was nothing.


	5. Worry (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Time flew by all too fast and yet dragged on at the same time.

Tomorrow they would find and defeat the Ender Dragon.

This was quite possibly their last night together.

Ellegaard gave a small smile as she turned slightly to look at the man holding her.

Magnus, and wasn’t this a rare sight, seemed peaceful. His crazy helmet was off, as was his mask, and his eyes were lightly shut.

Not to say that he didn’t snore like a zombie.

Because he did. He could be just as loud as his TNT even when he wasn’t trying.

Oftentimes it frustrated her, and yet other times she could only find it endearing and, dare she say it, cute.

It wasn’t as if they had a cookie cutter romance.

Not many couples trained to kill the Ender Dragon together while verbally sparring. Not that they were planning on verbally sparring when the fought the Ender Dragon, but that seemed to be what the rest of the order thought was going to happen.

The Ender Dragon. A beast so powerful and so large that no one had ever battled it and lived to tell the tale. A creature that was the source of many nightmares and fables. It was said that the best you could hope for was to run away as fast as you could and maybe then you'd live to see another day.

They were going to be the first, if they succeeded.

Years ago, Ellegaard would’ve laughed if she had been told that she would ever get to this point.

She had never been satisfied with just crafting clothes and keeping fires lit. She’d wanted to build, to create inventions and tools everyone could use.

But that wasn’t appropriate for “proper ladies”. Making crafting discoveries was a “man’s job”, not meant for women like her.

Ellegaard had been told that constantly when she was growing up, was reminded of it at every turn.

When Gabriel had invited her to join the order, though, that hadn’t seemed to bother him.

At first, she’d even thought that he was joking. After all, it sounded too good to be true.

But, no, he’d been dead serious.

None of the order seemed to care that she was a woman. She didn’t think any of them knew just how much that meant to her.

If she didn’t have them… Well, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d do.

She wasn’t even really sure what to do right now.

There were quite a variety of things she could craft, thing she already had built, before they left, but how useful they would be she wasn’t sure. Mostly they would be relying on their armor and swords, which had taken them quite a while to perfect. Gabriel, at least, would have the smallest trouble. He always had been a fantastic fighter, his skill in combat and his strength unparalleled. Some well-placed dispensers couldn’t hurt, and if she added some-

“Ellie, I can _hear_ that big brain of yours.” Magnus’s voice was much quieter than it normally was, but was still not devoid of the energy it always had. “Get some sleep.”

She huffed and considered elbowing him. It would only rile him up, though, and he was right; they needed their sleep while they could still get it. She would simply plan in the morning.

Until then, it seemed she was stuck with Magnus.

He was obnoxious, crude, unnecessarily loud, and at most times was all around unpleasant.

And there wasn’t anywhere else in the world she’d rather be, or anyone else she’d rather be with.


	6. Optimism

Olivia admired the entire order, minus Ivor who she hadn’t known about until very recently, just like everyone else. It was no secret, nothing special. She particularly looked up to Ellegaard, the best inventor in possibly all of history, not that that was any secret either.

Olivia tried to relax. She tried reminding herself of how much danger they were all in, but she could only feel positive.

After all, Jesse _always_ had hope, no matter how many times defeat came to smack them in the face. And they were defeated a lot. It was hard not to pick up a little bit of that optimism, as much as she didn’t want to.

It wasn’t as if Ellegaard hated or disliked her, which had been one of the big fears at the back of her mind. What would Ellegaard want with a loser? With someone who’d lost build battles at Endercon nine times in a row? If she couldn’t even do well enough for some judges, what would Ellegaard think?

Olivia was glad she was wrong.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t Ellegaard’s official assistant yet, but they all had other more important things to attend to first. She’d been her unofficial assistant, right beside Jesse and Reuben, for what were undoubtedly some of the best hours of her life.

Olivia hadn’t meant to faint, but besides some embarrassment it hadn’t detracted at all from the whole thing. How many people could say they assisted Ellegaard? Almost no one from home had even been able to claim that they had traveled, let alone to Redstonia.

Redstonia. It had been so much more beautiful and intricate than she could’ve ever imagined…

Before it had gone up in chaos and flames, in shrieks and screams.

Olivia grimaced, the screams of all the people who hadn’t made it ringing in her ears again. It had sounded very similar to the screams of the people at Endercon.

This time, only three of them had gotten away.

She never thought she’d be so grateful for Lukas and Axel staying behind. If they had come along, if either of them had been caught by that thing…

That was the problem with being optimistic.

When you got your hopes up, they were a lot easier to crush. A pessimist was a lot harder to disappoint.

But…

Two members of the order had joined them, one of them being Ellegaard, Olivia still had her two best friends, Lukas wasn’t anywhere near the jerk he’d seemed to be, Rueben was somehow still alive, and Petra, against all odds, had met up with them. Petra seemed sick and maybe a bit too guarded, but at least she was alive.

There were so many ways this could go wrong, probably would, but Olivia could only feel confident.

Maybe Jesse had been right.

Maybe there was a way to get those poor people back.

Maybe they could defeat the Witherstorm, once and for all.

They were going to do this. All of them.


	7. Snowball (Ellegaard/Magnus)

“Hey, Ellie!"

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba- goddammit Magnus!” Ellegaard clenched her fists, the frosty slush sliding down the side of her face. If she hadn’t had her goggles on, her eyes would no doubt have been stinging.

That did it.

She’d been trying to ignore his antics all day, each one more infuriating than the last.

This time she wasn’t going to let that explosive, bald son of a zombie get away with it. He wanted to play? Fine.

But it was going to be on _her_ terms. Arrows weren’t the only things dispensers could fire. 

* * *

 

By the time the sun went down and the moon came up, both Magnus and Ellegaard were bone tired and thoroughly soaked.  The other members of the order had no idea how in the world they’d managed to crawl back once it was all done, but none of them asked. They’d come to learn it was best not to question some things.

Sitting side by side as they warmed up by the fire, Ellegaard didn’t move as Magnus put one of his drenched arms around her. She was just too tired to deal with it.

 _That_ was why she leaned into him.


	8. Mission (Jesse/Petra)

“Jesse, if you die, I’m gonna kill you.” Good old Petra. She sounded more like her old self then than she had since they met back up. Jesse was almost done putting on the armor, everyone else busy talking to Soren about what they were going to do. Petra was half listening, and Jesse already knew what his part was-

Blow the Witherstorm up along with himself.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He grinned, but he wasn’t feeling any better about this.

Still, it was the least he could do.

“Seriously, good luck.” Petra gave him a pat on the back, a small tired smile on her face. Jesse tried to ignore the little skip in his chest.

“Skip in his chest”? Jesse ignored the urge to face palm. It sounded so stupid.

He wasn’t some kid; he could get over a silly crush. So why did it nag at him so much? What was stopping him from just telling her how he felt and getting over with it? After all, Petra was a close friend and normally she was very understanding.

They both knew this was a suicide mission. Jesse coming back was less likely then Petra recovering, and even if he had hope about her, there was no hope for him.

He did have Magnus’s armor, that couldn’t hurt. The rogue had seen and caused more explosions than Jesse ever would, and his gear had lasted against all of it. It showed, too. The whole thing smelt faintly of smoke, some of the green worn away and replaced by blotches of black.

His companion walked away, back to the others. Soren seemed to be finishing up.

Petra had saved his life multiple times, she’d trusted him, she’d done nothing but her absolute best.

What had Jesse done?

He’d taken too long and now she had wither sickness, he hadn’t stopped Ivor before he created the Wither and now all those innocent people were dead and Petra had almost been one of them, he had revealed secrets he wasn’t supposed to, secrets that weren’t his to tell, and despite all of that, she stood up for him. She stood beside him, was willing to do whatever she could even if she was feeling and looking like the living dead.

He owed her so much.

He’d never be able to pay her back. Even when, if, Jesse died and killed this thing, it wouldn’t make up for it. Petra was strong, stronger than he could ever be, and she’d eventually get better. When she did, she was going to have a safer world o live in and someone much better than him. All of his friends would be safer and happier. He’d make sure of it.

Jesse set his shoulders and breathed out. He looked up at the Witherstorm, the giant black mass getting closer. He looked at his friends, worn down and at their wit’s end. This was their last chance.

He had a job to do.


	9. Vision

Magnus didn’t know why, didn’t give a freakin crap how, but standing in front of him was Ellegaard. A second later he was hugging her and she was hugging him back, both of them holding on to each other like their lives depended on it.

She was bruised and beaten, nicks and cuts there that didn’t belong on her skin. But she was alive, was breathing.

“I thought you were dead.” The words came out tight, though he was surprised he managed to get them out at all. He didn’t care if he was making an idiot out of himself because _Ellie was alive, she was alive and was right there and he was actually hugging her and not some delusion, and_ -

And he opened his eyes.

He was lying on the ground by himself, away from the others. Ellegaard was nowhere to be seen.

Because her cold dead body was still lying on the ground somewhere, where they’d had to leave it to get away in time. Because people didn’t come back from the dead, not even those that deserved it more than anyone else.

A shaky hand was raised to his face, only to find it wet.

Idiot.


	10. Scenery (Ellegaard/Magnus)

The sun rose over the horizon, the sky painted with an impressive array of pinks and oranges. Sometimes, if not most times since she was usually busy with at least one of her inventions, Ellegaard forgot to just look up and enjoy her surroundings.

Magnus often got on her case about that. He told her time and time again that she needed to be more aware of her environment, though he never put it so tactfully. Normally it was more along the lines of “Stop being such a nerd before you kill yourself.”

Yes, every now and then she worked longer than was perhaps healthy, but a few missed meals weren’t going to kill her. Still, she did appreciate times like this.

Originally, Ellegaard had planned to expand the railways they had set up in the Nether, which were currently rather basic.

Magnus had told her point blank what a waste of her time that would be. He’d been quite wound up as of late, and that may or may not have had something to do with how everyone else was busying themselves with their own projects. Magnus wasn’t a person who liked to be ignored.

He also pointed out that she’d been working on those same tracks all week, which she had.

“Well then, what would you suggest?” His eyebrows had quirked and he’d had that smug smile back on his face. Annoying as others might have found Magnus, he was her best friend. Ellegaard doubted that would ever change. It had been that way for almost a decade now, and it probably would be for a dozen decades more.

They’d spent virtually the entire night talking to each other, fighting zombies and creepers, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you Magnus.” Ellegaard looked away from the fading stars.

“Well, you know me. There’s not a challenge out there that I’ll back down from.”

“Oh, really?” He straightened up, his already crooked smile becoming toothy. Now she had his attention, but she had no idea what she could task him to do. “Kiss me.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Ellegaard cringed and opened her mouth again, now trying to apologize, to act as if it was a bad joke, to do _something_ to make up for it.

She never got the chance. His lips, warm, dry, and chapped, were already on hers.


	11. Secret (Jesse/Petra)

Jesse had gotten herself into a panic. The brunette was pacing at this point, half speaking her thoughts aloud and half muttering them, making frantic gestures with her hands that were far too fast for Petra to keep up with right now.  
Petra finally gave up waiting for her to stop on her own and grabbed her by the hand, stopping Jesse mid step.

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” She gave Jesse’s hand a squeeze for good measure. Petra was freaking out enough on the inside as it was; the last thing she wanted was for Jesse to join in. She tried to smile, but she was feeling more drained now than she ever had.

Not that she didn’t understand or expect the panic. It was just what they needed, Wither Sickness.

“I know.” Jesse sighed and ran a hand through her hair, eyes closing as she did. “It’s just- First the Witherstorm, then this whole issue-thing between Ellegaard and Magnus, and now this! I don’t want to lose anyone, not you, not anybody.”

Petra would hope not. She trusted that her girlfriend wanted her alive.

When exactly they’d become a couple, Petra couldn’t really say. Somewhere between Petra saving Jesse from the monster swarm and Jesse saving Petra from the Witherstorm. Even that probably wasn’t quite right.

There hadn’t been one big moment where they’d decided or done anything big, it’d just sort of happened. Slowly, gradually, but it had happened. It’d definitely started back when they’d first met, when Petra had only had to take one look at Jesse before deciding that she was cute.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” Not that it wasn’t likely. For all Petra knew she could keel over dead before tomorrow.

“I’ll keep it secret, if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks.”


	12. Cling (Gabriel/Soren)

Soren had interesting… Habits. Quirks, really. Things like the way he hummed songs, that he may or may not have made up himself, under his breath when he worked, the way he could get so wrapped up in a small problem, and of course there were those bathrobes of his. One of these quirks was holding onto Gabriel with a death grip while he slept.  
Not that he had done it when they had first met, but since the two of them were sharing a bed more often than not now…

Another thing Soren did, though this one Gabriel and the rest of the Order had known about since the beginning, was talk in his sleep.

His voice was hoarse and quiet, but it rang as loudly as a TNT blast.

“Please, don’t leave.” Gabriel had learned very quickly the nature of most of his night mutters. Soren was a tricky man, yet not in the ways one might’ve expected. He wasn’t antisocial or conceited. He typically was a very open person, incredibly outgoing and not at all self-conscious.

For the most part.

Making bonds he didn’t mind. It was keeping them that appeared to bother him.

The idea of entering a relationship with Gabriel had seemed to make Soren both very interested and alarmingly unnerved.

From what Gabriel understood, Soren did not have the best track record when it came to people before the order had formed. When Gabriel had met him he’d mostly been friendless, save for Ivor, and he had not been raised by both parents.

The cause of which was not illness or battle, but abandonment.

Which parent it was, Gabriel still didn’t know. Soren rarely spoke of either of them, and he always got uncharacteristically grave when he did. To Gabriel’s knowledge, both were dead now and Soren hadn’t parted with whoever had stayed on the best of terms.

Soren seemed to understand that Gabriel wouldn’t do the same to him, but that didn’t mean memories of the people who had done it were going to leave any time soon either.

Still… It also didn’t mean Gabriel couldn’t help. He was undoubtedly willing to try.

Gabriel closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Soren’s, the redhead’s own beard tickling his neck.

There were still many hours left until sunrise, that he knew for certain, and Gabriel wasn’t planning on moving until then.


	13. Waterfall (Olivia/Petra)

“So, I found this waterfall…” Olivia spoke up, turning to look at the redhead sitting next to her. All of them were staying at the order’s temple until morning.

“Where?” Petra’s eyes didn’t leave the starry sky.

“It’s not far from here.” Olivia leaned into the adventurer. “I saw it when we were searching for the temple.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“We could check it out now, if you’d like?” Petra didn’t answer for a while, finally answering with a grimace.

“Sorry. I’m still feeling a little sick, and we need our rest.” She laid down and turned away. Olivia tried to ignore the twinge in her stomach and kissed Petra on the cheek before trying to fall asleep herself.

She hadn’t been like herself, but she wouldn’t tell Olivia why. Petra said she was under the weather, and Olivia didn’t want to press.

Still…

She’d ask Jesse if he could help, at least if this kept up.

It hurt that her girlfriend was more willing to talk to her best friend than her, but Olivia had a feeling it was a bit deeper than that. A bit more elaborate.

Petra was very complex for a person who claimed to be straightforward.


	14. Run (Jesse/Petra)

No, no, _no_ …

Jesse shook Petra’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge. Petra still wasn’t breathing, hadn’t since she’d been hit.

One of the Witherstorm’s tentacles had sent a tree flying into the air, and while the trunk hadn’t smashed into her, thank god, one of the smaller branches had.

The tree had been moving at a million miles per hour. That sort of thing wasn’t what you normally walked away from.

And in her weakened condition…

Her pulse was so weak, she’d already looked so pale.

First Magnus and now-

Jesse tightened her grip on the other’s shoulder.

No.

It just felt like everything was out of her hands now. Everything was so hopeless; nothing they did seemed to matter. If she lost Petra too…

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” Finally, _finally_ she stirred.

“Jesse?” Petra was quickly kissed.

The kiss was rushed and sloppy. They could die any minute, but if that was the last thing they ever did Jesse’d be happy. If she could help it though, and she’d try, it wasn’t time for them to die. Not yet.

She shakily picked up Petra, who looked so unnaturally small, and ran.


	15. Bleed (Jesse/Lukas)

“Why the hell are you bleeding!?” Jesse tried not to groan as Lukas hissed at her. She stopped walking and turned to face him.

“Lukas, it’s not that big a deal…” He’d been snappish lately, not that she could blame him. It was hard not to be high-strung at a time like this.

“Not that big a deal? Jesse, that’s not a small cut!” She had ended up getting sliced by some of the wire that had been left lying around by whoever’d been here before them.

Maybe it was just a bit bigger than it should’ve been, but they didn’t have enough resources laying around that they could waste it on her.

“I promised Ellegaard I’d do whatever I had to to help, and that’s what I need to do.” Jesse knew she was wasting time. She should’ve been out, gathering resources or helping people. Doing _something_.

“No, what you _need_ is to take care of that and then get some rest. You never promised her you’d run yourself ragged!” She loved him, but he really was worrying too much.

“And what- what about Petra?” The redhead was currently asleep, which was good, but what if she woke up? Jesse and Lukas were the only ones awake, and Jesse owed it to her to help however she could.

It couldn’t have been easy, having no memory. It certainly wasn’t easy being forgotten.

Jesse couldn’t remember a time she’d seen Axel so crushed. He’d been so happy to find out that Petra was alive…

To Jesse, it had felt like the biggest punch in the gut.

Yet Petra had saved her anyways, even when she hadn’t known who Jesse was or what was happening. All she had known was that someone needed her help.

If Petra, exhausted, confused, and with amnesia could still help, so could Jesse. There was still so much to do, so many people to aid…

“Jesse, you are not the world’s keeper. You need rest. You can’t keep doing this to yourself; you won’t be able to help anybody if you do.” Lukas sighed and let his head droop. “Jesse, please. You need to rest. I need you to rest. We’re all worried about you.”

Jesse tensed as someone put a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to find Magnus standing there.

She and Lukas weren’t the only two awake anymore, if they ever had been.

The griefer looked positively awful, with deep, dark bags under his eyes and his whole body slumped. If anybody should’ve been resting, it was him.

“Kid, he’s right.” Jesse opened her mouth, ready to argue. “You can’t do this, Jesse; it’s not what Ellie would’ve wanted.”

And just like that she closed it.

The last thing Jesse wanted was for it to seem like she was disrespecting Ellegaard.

On the other hand, there was so much left to do…

She looked around, looked at her friends.

All of them looked bushed, even as they slept. Lukas did too. He’d been so busy helping Axel build up a fortified shelter for them all that it was amazing that he was still awake. He shouldn’t have been wasting his time panicking over little things like the wonderful boyfriend he was; he should’ve been asleep already.

Jesse nodded at Magnus, and he gave a weary smile.

It was nothing like the fiery grin she’d seen so often in Boom Town.

“Good, you should get some sleep. Both of you.”

Jesse looked down as Magnus walked back to where he had been resting.

How many people were hurting because of her and her stupid decisions?

Gabriel, sick because she was too slow. Petra, ill and an amnesiac, because Jesse hadn’t gone after her too when she should’ve been better. Ellegaard-

The world’s greatest Redstone builder to ever live as well as a member of the Order of the Stone, dead because Jesse had chosen to take away her armor.

Magnus, Soren, and Gabriel all grieved for their lost friend. Olivia mourned her lost idol, and on the inside Jesse felt as if she had been hit by the F-Bomb herself.

Jesse scowled as she started cleaning the cut, her blood still slowly trickling onto the coarse dirt.

If she had taken Magnus’s gear, would they both be alive? Jesse would never know.

All those people, running in fear after Jesse had lied, even if she hadn’t meant to, about it being safe? How many of them had been reclaimed? How likely was it that they could survive a second time?

Jesse finished wrapping her leg and Lukas finally laid down.

She tried to get to sleep, the darkness coming too fast and too easy.

Tomorrow, Jesse would try again. And again. She had to.

It was all any of them _could_ do.


	16. Fight (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas crept ahead carefully, eyes focused on his target. He had to be as stealthy as possible or the entire mission would fail- His heart stopped.  
He’d been spotted.

It was now or never, do or die.

He jumped into the air and threw his projectile straight at his target.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba- goddammit!” Jesse laughed as the snowball hit him in the shoulder and fell down his arm. “So that’s how you wanna play it, huh?”

Lukas smirked, but he stumbled back as soon as Jesse scooped up some snow, evil grin of his own on his face.

He bumped into something as he took another step back, something big and soft that absolutely wasn’t a tree. He slowly looked behind him and froze at what he saw.

Aw, crap.

Now, Jesse with a snowball? Slightly dangerous, but nothing Lukas couldn’t handle. Axel with as much snow as those giant hands of his could pack into a snowball?

Entirely different story.

Thankfully, Lukas wasn’t alone.

Another snowball, a much smaller one, flew through the air and managed to smack Axel in the side of his head.

A brown thumbs up from behind the bush quickly gave away who it had been.

Even if his help was smaller than Jesse’s, Olivia was craftier than either of the other two and her help was much appreciated.

Reuben, loyal pet that he was, snorted and playfully –well, he was pretty sure it was playfully- charged at Lukas. He barely managed to dodge, a ton of snow ending up in his face anyhow.

Petra came out from the tree she was behind and managed to pelt Jesse in the back of his head. She ducked and managed to avoid his retaliating hit, but Olivia ended up getting Axel’s giant snowball dropped on her. Lukas aimed and fired, managing to hit him in the back. It didn’t seem to bother him at all, but now his attention was off of Olivia.

Lukas wondered as he ran from Axel how this was an improvement.

Soon the entire clearing was full of laughter and flying snow.

Their teams ended up changing without anyone really trying, and it quickly felt more like a mad free-for-all than anything else. An insanely enjoyable mad free-for-all.

Olivia and Reuben were trading fire with the frightening team up that was Axel and Petra, and Jesse was busy trying to hit Petra from the side.

Lukas, somehow, managed to tackle Jesse while he was distracted, sending both he and the brunette to the ground. The two of them stayed there panting, their breath visible in the icy air, Lukas not really holding Jesse down so much as hovering above him. The others carried on as the two stared at each other, most likely unaware at the moment that they were missing two members.

Jesse smiled up at him and pecked him on the cheek, making Lukas freeze.

Jesse then slammed a snowball into that same cheek with a snicker.


	17. Partners

Soren’s fortress was an even bigger maze than Ellegaard remembered, and she’d ended up running into Magnus almost as soon as she found the exit. How the two could possibly have met when they’d gone entirely separate and opposite directions was mindboggling, but she didn’t doubt that Soren could do it. The fortress had always been weird, built in a way that only he could ever figure out.

Even stranger was that they had yet to see any trace of Gabriel and the rest.

At first she had planned to simply ignore Magnus, because the other option was talking to him and she had no interest in that, and wait for the others so they could regroup. Time was of the essence, but they’d accomplish nothing if they only ran circles after one another. They didn’t have to wait more than a minute, however, for the mobs to start gathering and attacking.

Ellegaard was glad they had left as soon as they had, rather than wait for death. Nonetheless, that didn’t make her any more excited to fight off the veritable wave of monsters ready to kill her.

“Remember how I was right about waiting until morning? I’m still right.” And of course there was still Magnus.

Her eyes narrowed. Oh no, she was not doing this. Every time he opened his mouth he’d only start an argument. It was frustrating enough to work with him when she hadn’t been expecting to see him again. To deal with him while battling?

She sliced at a creeper, knocking it back. It didn’t manage to explode, Magnus delivering the finishing blow while she lopped off a spider’s head. A skeleton tried to hit her while Magnus stabbed it. Ellegaard started moving forward, her armor protecting her from a zombie’s bite, while Magnus speared a spider through the center.

They’d maybe gotten a bit rusty, but it wasn’t anything they- _She_ couldn’t handle. Ellegaard frowned. When had it become they again?

“Go back and find the others!” She called back to Magnus, her voice hoarser than it should’ve been, as she knocked another zombie off.

His hand snatched hers and she stopped. Surprised, Ellegaard turned to glare at Magnus. Now what?

“Have you lost your damn mind!?” Magnus huffed as he turned around and stabbed another zombie. “Ellie, you can’t fight off this horde on your own! There’s too many!”

“I think I can handle them without your _assistance_ , Magnus.” Ellegaard ignored the nickname as she dodged a skeleton’s arrow. The thought that he would’ve actually listened to her was laughable, but she’d had to give it a try.

“Yeah, yeah, you _think_. You always think. But you don’t know, do you Ellie?”

He had a point. And when Magnus was being the rational one, it was time to take a step back. This whole time they’d been bickering, which was what caused the group to split up in the first place, but they couldn’t keep doing that if they wanted to stay alive. A creeper would blow them up long before then.

“Fine, maybe I do need your help.” They were both back to back now. It was a position she hadn’t been in for years, yet it felt just as natural as it had before. “But what will this change? There’s still too many of them!”

“Simple: we fight!” Ellegaard should’ve known better. Granted, what else _could_ they do?

Finally, finally, it started thinning. They were covered in blood and sore to the bone, but they’d survived.

Not bad, all things considered.

Despite herself, she laughed. For only a moment, it felt like she was twenty years younger and training with her best friend again.

Then there was an echoing shrieking and roaring that had not been there before.

Both of them turned, Ellegaard already knowing what she would find.

The Witherstorm.

The monster was even larger now, huge, smoky black tentacles ripping apart the fortress at an alarming rate. Every brick was consumed by it as it tore through the building. Thank Notch they were out, if they’d been in there-

Wait. Ellegaard felt her heart plummet as it caught up with her who they hadn’t seen and who could very well still be inside. And with their luck, it wasn’t Ivor.

The look of horror on his face told her that Magnus was thinking the same.

“H-hold on, Gabe was with them, he wouldn’t let them fail there. They probably just got out some other way.” As much as Ellegaard wanted to believe him, there was a slight problem with that.

There was only one exit, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the others yet. She knew that didn’t mean they hadn’t escaped, but it wasn’t looking likely.

“Ivor…” Both of them scowled. They hadn’t run into him yet, and he supposedly was heading towards the same location as they were. It’d been years since she’d last seen him, but Ellegaard knew she wouldn’t want to go against him in a fight.

If the others, most of them young and inexperienced and Gabriel under the weather, crossed paths with him-

There was no telling what he could’ve done. His potions had always been dangerous, and if he chose to manipulate things enough that the Witherstorm could destroy their missing party members, or simply use something to poison them then and there...

It was entirely possible that they had all been taken by it, just like Redstonia.

The first thing they had to do was get to a safer distance. Then they would see who else had survived, if any of them had.

They’d just lost their only way to Soren. Hopefully they hadn’t lost Gabriel and Jesse’s group too.

And if Ivor had kill- _finished_ them… It would be the last thing he did.

There’d been enough suffering, enough death, because of him.

Right now, though, Ellegaard and Magnus would have to deal with the pack of creatures running at them to get away from the Witherstorm.


	18. Traitor (Jesse/Petra)

“You what?!” Petra drew her sword. It stung, but she couldn’t take this lying down. She hated traitors.

“I swear it was an accident.” Jesse backed up, her hands slightly out in front of her. “I know I said I’d let you tell, but I didn’t want to lie to Lukas!”

Petra took a step forward, only to close her eyes. Her vision was getting blurry. When she opened them again, Jesse was still there, wide eyes on the drawn weapon. Petra paused for a minute, then sighed and put it away.

The two of them stood in silence.

Petra realized how close she’d come to attacking Jesse. While Jesse could easily fight her off, she was getting to be a better fighter each day, that didn’t make it right.

This wasn’t like her.

Jesse was trying to help. She was only being nice. Lukas _did_ deserve to know; he was their friend.

Petra couldn’t blame Jesse for that.

It wasn’t Jesse’s fault it all hurt so much.

Why did it hurt? Why did everything feel like it was burning and twisting? Why did she want to hurt someone, to make them pay and suffer?

Petra wanted to ask her girlfriend these questions, but if she did Jesse would insist on giving some sort of support.

Jesse wanted to help, even when Petra didn’t _need any of her stinking help, she wasn’t weak_ -

“I’m sorry for snapping.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I understand it, Jesse. No harm done.”

“It’s okay, it’s my fault, you were right.” No, it was Petra’s own fault. She was jumping to conclusions, trying to start a fight, but Petra didn’t say that. She stayed quiet. “Are you– are you feeling alright, Petra?”

_My brain’s on fire, what do you think?_

“Yeah, I’m fine.”


	19. Stranger

“I almost lost you.”

She had no idea who the man in front of her was or why his gaze –piercing, searching- pulled at her heart. It was the same feeling she’d gotten when she’d heard him calling for help.

She had no idea why he hugged her.

She knew his name, Jesse, but she didn’t _know_ him.

She’d saved him because he’d needed help, and she did know that was what she had to do.

Apparently her name was Petra. Apparently this constant tired and drained feeling wasn’t normal. Apparently all these people knew her. _Apparently_.

Like Gabriel. He looked like she did, but he knew who he was. Knew some of these people very well. Petra had a feeling she’d known these people too, once upon a time, at least some of them.

Some things felt almost familiar, almost as if she did remember it. Quick as a flash, however, the memory would be gone, and she’d be just as lost as she was to begin with. Often she was only left with the barest of an emotion.

Seeing the blond, _Lukas_ , working together with the big guy, _Axel_ , made her happy, but she didn’t know why.

Seeing Gabriel ill like she was hurt and tore at her in ways it shouldn’t have.

Seeing Jesse in general made her content.

Why? Petra, if that was even her real name, didn’t know these people.

One of the few things she did know was that you couldn’t trust people. People turned on you, lied, left you behind.

Then why did she trust them? Why didn’t this make any sense?

Maybe they were all lying. Maybe they were just going to leave her later.

But she looked at Jesse, bleeding and exhausted and glad to see _her_ , and she believed him.


	20. Jealousy (Aiden/Jesse)

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Aiden grit his teeth at the stupid question.

“Shove off, Gill. There’s nothing for me to be jealous of.” If Lukas wanted to waste his time, that was his decision. It wasn’t as if Aiden could, or would, stop him.

When it interfered with them seeing Gabriel the freaking warrior, it was a different story.

“Come on, he’ll yak all day.” Aiden started walking, not really caring if the other two followed him or not.

Why would he be jealous?

Of Jesse? _Please_ , Lukas could do whatever he wanted in his free time. And the thought that he was jealous of Lukas was laughable.

There was more to Jesse than met the eye, though. It was interesting.

She could do more than argue vocally. She was ready to push and shove if she had to, and she didn’t need to rely on others.

There was a spark there, a bite. Jesse had energy, wasn’t willing to be cowed like most people. Aiden could definitely respect that.

It also didn’t hurt that she looked good.

Notch, was he ever messed up. So maybe Gill was onto something, but he’d never let the jerk know it.


	21. Massage (Jesse/Axel)

Jesse tilted her head back and forth and tried not to wince as her muscles cried out. They’d spent the day riding away from the Witherstorm on the horses they’d been lucky enough to snag. It got them away faster than walking or running by foot, but Jesse couldn’t say she was exactly used to it.

“Are you okay?” Apparently she didn’t hide it well enough. Jesse turned to Axel and smiled.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah, I’m just a bit stiff, that’s all.” He didn’t seem convinced.

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” As nice as that sounded, there was still their shelter to build. Lukas, Ellegaard, and Olivia were already on it, doing very nice on their own. All the same, it’d go even quicker if they had more help. Soren was busy helping both Petra and Gabriel, who looked even worse now.

“No, you don’t have to, I’m good- _Ouch_. Ow.” She must have shifted her neck wrong, because now it’d gone from aching to feeling like it was on fire. Moving it only made it worse. She wasn’t going to be able to help like this. Jesse grimaced, slowly looked back up at Axel, and sighed. “Yes please.”

The two of them sat down, Axel leaning up against a tree and Jesse in front of him with her back turned.

Jesse pretty much melted as soon as his big hands started kneading her shoulders.

Notch, that felt good. Axel could be surprisingly gentle, at least when he wanted to be.

“Yeesh, this feels like stone. When was the last time you got some sleep Jesse?” Did it feel that bad? Did she look that awful? The bags under her eyes weren’t that deep, the cricks in her neck and back not that strong. She felt fine.

“Just the other night.” Well, not really. It had been more like _four_ nights ago, and they both knew it. If Jesse had slept then, though, who would’ve been out gathering supplies and keeping watch? If anyone else had, they wouldn’t have been getting the sleep they needed, but Jesse would be fine. This was her mess, her responsibility.

Soren started a fire, the heat a nice change from the freezing wind that’d chased them all day.

Axel didn’t say anything else, but Jesse had a feeling she knew what point he was trying to get across. Trouble was, she couldn’t meet the terms. Wouldn’t. As soon as this lovely massage was over, Jesse’d help reinforce their shelter for the night. Then she’d probably go looking for any other survivors they could help.

It was going to be another long night, but that was alright.

She was supposed to be strong. She had to be strong.

Jesse shut her eyes and let her head rest on Axel’s chest, her eyelids heavier than they should have been. She’d keep them closed, just for now, just for a while, then she’d go.

She had… to keep… her promise.

Jesse fell asleep.


	22. Possess (Jesse/Lukas)

**This takes place in the Wither!Jesse AU.**

“Please, don’t do this.” Lukas croaked, his voice rough as sandpaper. It was so unlike the Lukas he had known. “Please.”

So many of his old allies and “friends” were already dead or in hiding, but not Lukas. Oh no, Jesse had been lucky enough to find him. For days he’d been tracking Lukas, desperate and alone. Lukas was already bleeding, poorly healed wounds on his face, and he looked as healthy as a three-day dead horse.

Jesse could keep him around, heal him and keep him alive. Just Lukas and him, the entire world theirs and the Witherstorm’s to have. His eyes may have been opened, but he still had a certain… fondness for the boy he’d grown to love.

Jesse plunged his sword into Lukas’s stomach, Lukas writhing until he suddenly went limp. Jesse kissed his pale lips and looked into his eyes, the light already fading.

Painful, the way Jesse liked it, but quick, for Lukas.

“Goodbye.” Yes, he could’ve kept him alive, but Lukas wouldn’t like it. He was far too good for this world, _Jesse’s_ new world.

And so it was time to move on. The world wasn’t going to submit itself, now was it?


	23. Boredom (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Soren and Ellegaard were holding another meeting of their dumb geek club again, they’d all already trained today, and there wasn’t anything that needed to be blown up.

In short, there was nothing to do and Magnus was bored to death. He complained about it to Gabriel, the only one who hadn’t run away to do something separate, who seemed to find the whole thing very funny.

“Wait, are you jealous?” _Very_ funny.

“What? No!”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“They’re big nerds in front of us all the time anyway! They don’t need to have their own separate dork club for it.” Magnus grumbled and took another drink. It was late, where were they? It’d already been what felt like hours. It was going to be another all-nighter, wasn’t it? Ellegaard and Soren were bad enough when they had sensible people to keep them alive, but together? They could keep going until they died and neither would notice. “Come on, you know how they get.”

Now, Ivor wasn’t half bad when it came to taking care of himself, but this time, big surprise, he’d chosen to experiment alone. Nothing against him, Ivor really liked his time alone, it just meant that Soren and Ellie were having the unrestricted time of their lives being boring.

It wasn’t even like they were in the same building. No, Soren _had_ to have his own little hideout in the mountains away from the rest of them, didn’t he? And of course he _had_ to drag Ellie along.

When they experimented around the others there was at least the chance of a cool explosion happening every once in a while. At least then he knew where the two of them were and that they were fine.

“They can take care of themselves… well enough. It sounds to me like someone wishes they were the one spending time with Ellegaard rather than Soren.” Gabe sounding so smug wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, well, you need to get your ears checked!” Magnus was not blushing, he was _not_.

“If you say so.” Was he the only one concerned about their crazy friends’ survival? This was what he got for caring. Figured.

“I do, and that’s all there is to it.” Magnus covered his head with his arms. He’d take a powernap and wake up when the nerds finally got back.

Magnus could’ve sworn he heard the warrior mutter “jealous”.


	24. Trapped

He could hear the hissing behind the walls.

Axel grimaced as he looked behind them, making sure the area was sealed off.

They’d both known as soon as they entered what it was. Only abandoned mineshafts had as many spiders as this place. Not that they were the only monsters lurking around.

The whole reason they were here was because of that freaking creeper.

He glanced at Petra, who was paler than ever and sitting next to the fire. It was a good thing they’d had the flint and steel with them.

Jesse had told him and Olivia before that Petra was sick. She’d only been getting worse too. Axel didn’t know the details, but he was willing to bet that being soaked and _bleeding_ probably didn’t help.

She was still bleeding, too. It was slower, but it hadn’t stopped yet. Her arm was wrapped, but with every second the cover got redder. They’d all split the bandages just in case when they’d split up, but that one was the only one they’d had. If she needed another one, they’d have to use something else.

He should’ve seen the creeper. If he had they wouldn’t be stuck here now, and boy were they stuck. They’d been cornered in a dead end of a tunnel, and if they left now, they’d both be instantly attacked. Even if he could leave her, what if it got worse? What if as soon as he left she lost too much blood or choked or- or something?

Axel was a griefer, not a doctor, but he could see that Petra wasn’t doing well. She hadn’t been before, and now…

He wasn’t going to leave her, simple as that. Jesse could wait, she’d understand. Maybe the group would worry, but better safe than sorry.

Like Ellegaard. That had been a tough blow and Axel hadn’t known the inventor for long. If Petra-

That wasn’t going to happen.

He could just hear the muffled thunder from outside, the sound of the rain as it came down harder. The already bad weather had gotten worse. No way were they going through that.

Axel sat down and looked into the fire, trying to think of how they were going to get out when the sun eventually came back up. The sunlight wouldn’t make the creepers burn up, but at least the spiders would go away.

He lifted his head as he was nudged.

Petra was leaning into him, her eyes closed. Axel hesitated before he tried to gently put his arm around her.

“Thanks.” Her voice was small and hoarse, she sounded completely exhausted. Probably was.

The flames crackled and they sat quietly. Just when he’d thought she fallen asleep, Petra suddenly spoke up.

“You make a good pillow.”

It could’ve been worse.

The creepers weren’t close enough to detonate, the spiders couldn’t get in, and there weren’t any zombies or skeletons so far.

They’d make it to morning. _Petra_ ’d make it to morning.

He’d make sure of it.


	25. Oblivious (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Ellegaard and Soren were testing an invention of some sort, Magnus hadn’t paid much attention, with Gabriel as a somewhat-willing test subject. Ivor was preparing for another experiment and Magnus was pacing.

He needed to talk to somebody.

There was only one problem. Since Magnus was nervous, anybody could tell you that, he fumbled with his words, which made him more rattled and made him stumble even more, and so on. Ivor had enough when Magnus tried a third time.

“Oh Notch, you’re in love with her.” Magnus froze and turned to look at the potioneer. Ivor rolled his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. “Magnus, the rest of us figured it out ages ago.”

“You don’t have to act like it’s so obvious.” Of course Ivor knew, he was just so _smart_ , now wasn’t he? Gabriel had probably pieced it together on his own, but Magnus refused to believe that it was so noticeable that Soren, Mr. Oblivious himself, could see it without help. He and Ellie weren’t _that_ bad.

“The only one as ignorant about it as you is Ellegaard herself.” Ivor snorted. “Honestly, the two of you are worse than Gabriel and Soren.”

“Take that back. Nobody’s worse than those two.” The sheer amount of affection Soren showed Gabriel was enough to drive both Ivor and Magnus crazy. Granted, Soren didn’t really seem to be unaffectionate with any of them, but he was ridiculous with Gabe.

“You’re at least close.”

“What do _you_ suggest I do, then?”

“Be honest and tell her.” Ivor added water to the cauldron. “Notch knows the last thing we need around here is drama.”

Hmm.

Magnus left the room with a plan. Yeah, it still had a few kinks, but he’d fix that. Maybe if he tried something with some TNT…


	26. Sleeves

“How… exactly _did_ this happen?” Soren examined one of the blue ripped sleeves again before picking up a needle. Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, sheepish smile on his face.

“I flexed and the sleeves exploded.”

“If anybody else said that, they’d be bragging.” Ivor noted from where he was sitting, looking up from one of his alchemy books.

“I’m not so sure it’s not.” Gabriel grinned and rolled his eyes as Magnus spoke. The griefer was sewing up the sleeve Soren wasn’t. “I mean, come on Gabe, big whoop. You’re telling me you’ve got too many muscles?”

“No, I-”

“To be fair, Gabriel, I’m surprised that shirt lasted as long as it did, considering all the muscle you’ve built up keeping fit and training.” Ellegaard asked, jabbing Magnus with a none-too-subtle elbow. “I mean, you’ve had it for at least the past- two years, is it now?”

“Three.” It had been one of his favorite shirts too, and it looked surprisingly good, all things considered. Well, save for the sleeves. It was disappointing to know he wouldn’t be able to wear it anymore.

“It seems like an easy fix; you just won’t be able to use it again. However, one of us could. None of us have as pronounced a ‘muscle problem’, so that shouldn’t be an issue.” Soren chuckled as he finished stitching it up. “Might want to dye it a different color, but that’s entirely up to you and whoever wants it. I’m afraid it doesn’t really suit me.”

“Eh, I’ll pass.” Magnus finished his sleeve.

“I’d rather not.” Ivor went back to his book.

“May I, Gabriel?”

“Certainly, Ellegaard.”

“You two are ridiculous. It’s a stinking shirt, not special armor.”

There _may_ have been an impromptu two on one wrestling match that Magnus quickly lost. 


	27. Useless (Jesse/Lukas)

“I’m sick of being useless!” Jesse’s head snapped up and she blearily opened her eyes. She yawned as she stretched, wondering where that had come from.

“Lukas, you aren’t useless.” She kissed him on the cheek. He’d been quiet for the past few minutes, and she must have slipped off. Couldn’t fall asleep now, could she? That’d be too easy.

No, that wasn’t fair to Lukas. He was her boyfriend, losing a little sleep she didn’t need wasn’t going to kill her.

“What have I done? I run here and I run there. I cower a few times and I freeze during the others. Tell me one good thing I’ve done Jesse.  _One_. _Thing_.”

“Did Axel say something?” The two of them had been getting along better lately, but he could’ve- Lukas scowled at her. Ooh boy.

“What? Jesse, no! I don’t need someone to tell me when I’m being a load.”

“How about when you decided to stay at the temple and fortify it?” Lukas raised an eyebrow as Jesse continued. “If you hadn’t done that, Olivia wouldn’t have gone out to find Ellegaard. Monsters could’ve overrun the place. Can you imagine what it would’ve been like to finally come back to the temple with Magnus only to be blown up by a creeper?”

“Great, so I helped by staying behind.” Jesse winced. Okay, in hindsight, not the best example to use.

“Fine, how about when you saved the amulet while I helped Axel and Reuben?”

“I ran and picked something up.” She tried not to groan as she looked him in the eye.

“Are you being this difficult on purpose?” It was a joke, but it fell flat. Lukas only furrowed his brow and deepened his frown.

“Jesse, please, I’m serious. I need to be better than this; I need to be more than some last resort backup. I know I’m not the leader, I don’t want to argue with you anymore about that, but I want to be more than slightly-maybe-sometimes-useful.”

Jesse sighed and let her shoulders slump.

“What would you like me to do?”

“You’re a really good fighter, Jesse. Could you teach me, give it a try?” He’d have to get better eventually, with the Witherstorm the way it was now. Why not?

“I will. But tomorrow, after we’ve both gotten some rest.” She laid her head back down, barely managing to catch Lukas’s agreement.


	28. Hand (Lukas/Olivia)

Running from the Witherstorms involved a series of steps: Ride by horses as fast as they could by day, sleep at night, think of a new plan to destroy the Witherstorms, and repeat.

Sometimes there were slight pauses between the stages, like when they had to let the horses rest or if someone was hurt.

There were more and more people getting hurt nowadays. Most of them were her friends, injured over and over.

Olivia looked up from the blueprint as Jesse more or less collapsed down onto the ground, her broken arm apparently healed.

They were lucky they had as many supplies as they did.

Nobody else was dead. _Yet_. There was still plenty of time left for something awful to happen again, so many holes still in their strategy.

They’d all banked so much on the Formidi-Bomb that when it had failed they didn’t have any backup plans. All or nothing, and it turned out to be nothing.

Olivia sighed and rolled the blueprint back up, head pounding. She needed to get some sleep.

She stood up and stretched, wondering what on Minecraftia they were going to do. She had ideas, sure, but would they be enough?

Axel, Reuben, Jesse, and Petra all appeared to be drifting off to sleep. Magnus, Soren, and Gabriel were busy speaking while watching out for creatures, but what they talked about she didn’t know. They would do it often, have hushed and sometimes heated conversations. Maybe they were about the Witherstorms, maybe they talked about Ivor, Olivia didn’t know and she wouldn’t pry. They deserved their privacy.

Lukas was farther away from the group, staring up at the sky. He’d been doing it for a while; maybe he’d like some company.

The cold desert sand shifted and pushed up against nearby cacti as the quiet breeze got harsher, but the moon continued to shine as clearly as it had before.

“Hey Olivia.” Lukas smiled, nodded his head, and went right back to staring upwards.

“Hi Lukas.” She stood next to him and also looked up, focusing on a very bright star left of the moon.

Even if at night monsters came out, seeing it was a strange comfort. These were the same stars and moon she’d known her entire life. Even if things had changed down here, nothing had up there. It was the same night sky she had looked at years ago, when she, Jesse, and Axel were young kids playing silly games and laughing with each other. The worst thing back then had been losing building competitions and being called losers.

Back then none of them had liked Lukas either, known much about Petra, or ever thought they’d get the chance to meet _one_ Order of the Stone member, never mind all four.

Times changed.

Olivia started to move but stopped, brain catching up. She and Lukas were only friends, and he looked tired.

It was the end of the world as they knew it, though, what was there to lose?

Either of them could die any day now. If Ellegaard, the best inventor alive- _to live_ , could, what was protecting them?

She felt her throat tighten up. What was even the point?

Olivia frowned.

She couldn’t think like that.

If he turned her down, so what? It wasn’t as if that would ruin anything. Neither of them were that petty.

Olivia held his hand in hers, not willing to look over at him. Her face was hot enough already.

But Lukas didn’t pull back or tell her to let go. His hand squeezed hers softly and that was that.


	29. Victory (What could have been)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel/Soren

“You make a good pillow.” Soren yawned, head lying on Gabriel’s chest. The room was lit by a large fire, giving everything a rather cozy feeling.

“Do I now?” Soren nodded slightly, already slipping off into sleep.

“Mhm.” Gabriel wondered if his grin could get any bigger. So much had happened in one day. The order had gone and not only fought against the dreaded Ender Dragon, but they had _won_. Against all odds, they had lived and killed the monster.

They were drunk on a thrilling mixture of victory and alcohol that Magnus may or may not have stolen from a village, but mostly victory.

The others were reveling in their own ways, but Magnus’s firework/TNT celebration had finally stopped.

Where would they go from here? Where could they? The End was the limit, and they had broken and slayed that barrier.

The flames flickered as the fire ravenously ate at its fuel.

To think they had all started out as people others believed to be failures and scum, people supposedly destined for no more than simple and crude lives.

How wrong they had been.

Gabriel closed his weary eyes. 

United like this, there was nothing they couldn’t do.


	30. Breath (Jesse/Petra)

Petra yawned as she opened her eyes. The sun was rising, its rays covering the room and bed. Already she could hear the whistling of the birds outside, the mooing of nearby livestock.

Green sleepy eyes stared back at her. Petra wasn’t the only one up.

She grinned.

“You know, you have really bad morning breath.” Jesse turned, his face now in the pillow.

“Gee, thanks.” He mumbled into the pillow with a chuckle. “Good morning to you too.”

“I’m serious. Are you trying to give Reuben a run for his money?” Jesse gave a mock groan.

“Petra.” She poked him in the side. Jesse moved an inch. “ _Petra_.”

“Come on lazy bones, I can’t move with you lying on my legs.” They both knew she could. Petra worked out every day and was much stronger than Jesse, but if she just moved him where would the fun be?

She had nowhere to be, no deals to fulfill, nowhere to really go today.

Petra would have to settle for being with Jesse for as long as she wanted. Darn. If she was unlucky, she’d probably have to spend time being loved by him too. What an absolute _shame_ that was.


	31. Late (Petra/Axel)

“I know this is ridiculous and impossible and… And stupid, but I love you- I love you more than I could ever tell you.”

Should’ve kept his mouth shut, definitely should’ve kept his mouth shut. Petra didn’t look at Axel. She must’ve thought he was the dumbest guy in the world. He probably was. She didn’t even know him anymore. “Please remember, Petra.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t, I can’t.”  

It was his own fault for hoping it would work in the first place.

It figured. He finally got the guts to tell her and it was too little, too late.


	32. Shot (Jesse/Lukas)

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” Jesse didn’t move.

Why would he?

The dead tended to stay still. And there was no denying it; Jesse was _d e a d_. He’d bled out, because people did that when they were hit too many times.

Lukas was bleeding too, his vision spun and swam, but he was alive.  Jesse’s cold, bloodstained hand was motionless in his. He’d died trying to protect his boyfriend, his stupid, useless boyfriend who couldn’t fight fast or hard enough. Who couldn’t do enough when it mattered.

Lukas could hear the groans of the zombies and the clicking of the skeletons getting closer. Notch, why weren’t they all dead? How many monsters needed to be killed for them to get the hint?

Lukas needed to find their friends. He needed to get Jesse- _his body_ , away. He had to get help.

He had to…

Had to…

Pain, stinging, biting pain, it _hurt_. Gnawing and clawing, why did it hurt so much?

Something hit the dirt beside him. An arrow?

Lukas couldn’t care; the pain only got worse. He was burning alive, inside and out.

Everything went black and he felt nothing.


	33. Forgotten

Jesse looked at the strange- being, for lack of a better word, that stood in front of him. White blocks where half of his face as well as parts of his neck and torso should have been were there, while the rest looked _almost_ normal. Blond hair, an unobstructed blue eye that seemed to be oozing a black liquid, a jacket that was weirdly familiar, and a striped shirt.

The white blobs looked strikingly similar to the Witherstorms, though why Jesse had no idea. Yes, the Witherstorms were hulking masses of white-

_But they weren't supposed to be white, were they? No, black, likes the marks on his skin, massive tentacles, multiple heads-_

Jesse shook his head. The Witherstorms were as they were supposed to be. Thinking like this didn't help him in the slightest concerning the intruder.

His hands felt right, familiar. He didn't flinch at Jesse's touch, wasn't affected at all. For a very brief moment, Jesse felt something tug at the back of his mind, an image of four people and a feeling of utter rage and jealousy. It felt wrong-

_Four? No, no, it had always been three- hadn't it?_

Jesse shook his head while the figure tilted his own.

It did not matter who he was before the Witherstorms had drafted him to be their loyal servant. All that mattered was that he was, indeed, loyal and willing to serve.

It couldn't hurt, though, could it? To be with this captivating stranger more, to make sure he wasn't a threat of course, to see what else he could do.

"It isn't supposed to be like this." There was a smile, melancholy. "But I'm glad you're here, Jesse."

Acting as if he knew him, yet another odd unexplainable quirk. Jesse looked at this odd man and sensed nothing as he often did with the others claiming to have been his allies.

Similarly, he had yet to try to make Jesse submit, make him leave the Witherstorms' protection.

It would be to the benefit of the storms if he made an ally instead of risking a powerful enemy. Not that Jesse was foolish enough to think that his own personal desires weren't affecting his decisions. This… _man_ was certainly attractive, and that voice called to him like a mighty bell in the fog of night.

This could very well be the start of a very interesting friendship.


	34. Flirt (Jesse/Lukas)

Jesse knocked on the door as he opened it, already knowing Lukas was inside.

“Come in.” The blond, sure enough, was crouched over an opened chest, storing away stone. His clothes were smudged with dirt from the little adventure, one among hundreds that Lukas liked to do solo.

“You know that stained glass statue that just got finished?” It was supposed to be another monument to the Witherstorm’s defeat, and it had apparently been in the works for some time now. Lukas hummed as he finished putting away the stone.  “I was thinking we could go and see it. I hear it’s supposed to be stunning this time of day.”

"Well, you know how Olivia had all those inventions she'd like to finish up before it gets dark, Petra's still busy exploring, and Notch knows when Axel'll get back."

That hadn't been what Jesse meant at all by "we" and his boyfriend knew it.

Jesse sat right in front of him and waved his arms.

“I’m flirting with you.” Lukas smiled.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

"No kidding."

The two of them laughed.

"Really, though, a walk through town sounds great, Jesse." Lukas closed the chest and headed to the door.


	35. Avoidance (Jesse/Lukas)

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Jesse stepped back as Lukas stepped forward with a scowl on his face.

“Have I been?”  They both knew he had. It was a miracle that Jesse didn’t stutter.

“Jesse, you saw me coming and tried to bolt.” He would’ve too if the entry to the cave hadn’t just been blocked. Olivia had returned and was bringing in the materials she’d gathered.

“Well… We’ve all been pretty busy Lukas.” Jesse looked down. “You looked like you needed your space.”

If Lukas had been mad before…

“Will you stop lying to me?” He almost broke then and there. Jesse couldn’t, though, he wasn’t bugging Lukas with this. He forced a smile, hoping it looked tired rather than fake.        

“Lukas, I’m serious. That’s all it is. I’m sorry I’ve been dodging you.” The blond looked ready to argue, but after a moment he sighed and walked away, either too fed up or too exhausted to care.

“Alright Jesse.” Lying to Lukas felt wrong, but what was he supposed to do? The Witherstorm was destroying the world, people were dying and getting sick left and right, nothing was okay anymore. This was no time for silly crushes.


	36. Ash (Jesse/Petra)

“Jesse, get out of here. I’ll be fine.” She was lying, she was lying and they both knew it. If Jesse left Petra, she’d go up in smoke.

Everything was on fire, there was screaming that Jesse couldn’t pinpoint for the life of her, and there was the sinking feeling that the woman leaning heavily into her was dying.

“I love you, and there’s no way in Hell I’m leaving here without you.” Jesse growled and made sure she was holding on firmly. “Come on Petra, not much further.”

“Jesse, if you don’t go now you’re going to _die_.” Petra’s words were slurring and her breaths were getting slower. She couldn’t seem to focus her eyes, but Jesse wasn’t really sure if she could either. She pushed herself to run even faster, she had to get Petra out. “The others- They need you. They don’t need- don’t need me. Please, Jesse.”

“Petra.” Jesse tried to cough the ash out of her lungs, but could see the exit, a clear beacon through all the cinders and haze.

“Jesse, they’re what’s im-important. You gotta- gotta save them. Sickness is gonna kill me anyway. I’m a lost cause.” Her voice was even fainter now. Was that the color of her hair or was that blood? Petra’s hair wasn’t that red, she was bleeding, they were both going to burn. “I l-love you.”

It sounded so final.

“Please hold on, just for a few more seconds.” The words felt far too familiar and the sinking increased tenfold. They’d already lost Ellegaard, she couldn’t lose Petra.

“O-okay, Jesse.” By now Petra was pretty much being dragged by Jesse.

Against all odds, they got out. Jesse let out a wild whoop, they were still alive and they’d made it, and _see Petra you just had to hold on_ -

And the world came crashing down.

Her body was limp. There was no pulse, she wasn’t breathing, she’d lost too much blood. Jesse’d been too late, and now Petra was dead.

 _Dead_.

Jesse stood stock still, feeling frozen. Red, warm blood oozed down Petra, but it didn’t matter now, did it?

Not again.

Her fingers tightened around Petra’s lifeless arm as they fell to the ground.

Jesse didn’t know she was crying until the world became a blurry mess, smears of red and orange all she could see.

Her friends found them like that not a minute later.


	37. Kindness (Jesse/Lukas)

 “Why are you so nice to me?” Lukas glanced again at Jesse. It’d been bothering him all morning, and he still didn’t have an answer. What could Lukas have that Jesse would want? What could he do?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jesse tilted his head, looking at Lukas as if he’d grown another arm. “You never actually did anything to me personally, and you’ve really been a huge help lately. Why shouldn’t I be nice to you?”

He stated it so plainly, like it was common knowledge. As nice as it sounded, though, Lukas already knew that wasn’t the case.

“Jesse- That’s not how people work.” It wasn’t, Jesse must’ve figured that Lukas could help somehow. 9 years of rivalry, of constant bickering and insults, couldn’t disappear like that. Could it?

Jesse gave him another odd look.

“Maybe not some of the people you’ve met, but most people seem to think that’s the way to go, and I’m one of them.” He smiled and walked faster, catching up with Olivia and Axel.

Lukas shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

Jesse was crazy. But it was the good kind, Lukas decided as he picked up his pace.


	38. Dodge (Jesse/Lukas)

“You okay?” Jesse was looking pale. He didn’t look at Lukas as he answered.

“I’m fine.” Liar.

“For once, tell me what you’re thinking, not what you think I want to hear!” Lukas stepped in front of Jesse. “Look me in the eye and actually tell me the truth.”

“Lukas, leave me alone.” He had no idea why Jesse was acting like this. He’d been erratic, jumping at and watching every little thing. None of them had been well since Magnus had died and they’d had to run again, but Jesse was the worst.

Maybe not _the_ worst. Ellegaard hadn’t spoken to anyone since, and Soren and Gabriel weren’t much better. Still, Jesse was far from fine.

“Don’t shut me out.” This wasn’t like his boyfriend. Before, Jesse had smiled, been positive, could always offer some sort of positive outlook. Lukas knew he himself had been snappy lately, but that’d been because Jesse was keeping dangerous secrets and he’d thought they’d agree they’d both work it out.

“Sorry Lukas, we’ve all got work to do.” Jesse turned around and walked away. “I’ll see you later.”

“… Right.” Maybe Jesse would open up later. Trying to force it again was pointless.


	39. Blast

Soren glanced around the improvised netherrack wall as he tried to keep Gabriel steady. The warrior’d been hit by a blaze’s fireball right in his side, the area terribly burned. It was at the least second degree, bright red and bleeding in some areas. Gabriel himself was gritting his teeth and seemed to be having trouble staying conscious.

They had had a healing potion, but it had only been the one and, even with its speedy restorative aid, Gabriel was in a sad state.

Soren hastily took off his scarf and tried to use it a makeshift wrap, the other man hissing quietly as he did. The cloth was soon awash with drying blood, but it seemed to be doing the job.

This whole affair had deteriorated rather rapidly.

It was supposed to have been a quick trip to the Nether for some materials and ingredients. They weren’t going to stray too far, weren’t going to bother any of the Pigmen, would be back to the Overworld before the hour was up. Unfortunately, the simplest things rarely went as planned, for better or worse.

This time it was undoubtedly for worse.

While gathering glowstone, they’d more or less stumbled across a fortress that had been buried inside. It hadn’t taken a minute for the monsters within to find them. Not that they had meant to stick around. In fact, they’d just been about to leave and return to the portal so they could enlist their friends’ help in exploring when the blazes found and surrounded them.

Their swords and armor had protected them both for the most part, but it had been one of the last surviving creatures that had managed to catch Gabriel unawares. Its shot had been at an odd angle and it had succeeded in getting underneath Gabriel’s chestplate.

Gabriel started sliding and Soren readjusted his grip, trying not to wince as he heard another arrow strike the netherrack behind them. Gabriel was becoming paler with every passing second, eyes unfocused.

Ivor would know what to do, would be able to treat him, the trick there being getting Gabriel to him _alive_.

It didn’t sound too tricky; the portal wasn’t that far away. What made it hard was the blaze and wither skeletons still between them and the portal, more and more beasts arriving. Soren could try and attack them, but that meant leaving Gabriel and he’d most likely be swarmed immediately. That wasn’t going to help anyone.

Soren’s eye caught something that was bright red and moving quickly, also between them and the portal. It blended in fairly well with the likewise fiery surroundings. A magma cube, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t alone.

Two other somethings, garbed in the much more eye-catching colors of green and gold.

Soren relaxed and felt his grip on his sword loosen.

The cavalry had never had better timing.

“Hold on Gabriel, we’ll be out of here soon.” He wasn’t even sure if Gabriel _could_ hear him at this point.


	40. Abused

“You wouldn’t believe how stupid some of the villagers around here are. Well, maybe you would. Still, this one idiot tried to…”

Magnus felt the smile slip off his face as he took another look at Ellegaard. She had yet to turn, to make her usual remark, and- was she shivering? In the middle of summer, in a warm house.

Who’d died?

“Ellie?” Magnus closed the door behind him.

“I could have sworn I saw them, earlier today at the market. I couldn’t believe they’d found us, after all we did to get away.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t them, of course, it was just a pair of confused villagers.”

“Them? What in the Nether are you-” He realized what she had just said.

Oh, _them_. Magnus swallowed and stopped midsentence. Who did they both know that could get Ellie, who normally had the stability of diamond, into this kind of state? Who had they both run from?

“They can’t find us Ellie, they won’t. Even if they do, which they _won’t_ , they’re only going to get a face full of TNT if they come knocking.”

You could get back up from a punch or a kick. The blood would dry, the cuts would heal. Magnus knew plenty about _that_.

Messing with somebody emotionally was its own kind of twisted that he couldn’t even begin to figure out. Its marks couldn’t be patched up quickly, and there was no way for him to know what could or couldn’t help.

“A freakin Enderman would have trouble getting past your dispensers. You think your folks, who don’t even know where on Minecraftia we are, could stand a chance?”

“What about the order?” Magnus quickly turned to look at Ellegaard again and he rose his eyebrows.

“You don’t trust Gabe?” Their friend had made them an offer the other day, one Magnus was pretty sure they were going to take. He’d wanted to know if they were interested in joining him, as well as Ivor and Soren, in an order. The “Order of the Stone”, he’d called it. The name sounded nice enough.

“It’s not that.” She shook her head, eyes not leaving the half-completed piston. Her hands weren’t moving, holding tightly onto the wooden top. “Guilds get noticed. It’s at least an easier way for someone to be recognized.”

Hence most of the appeal of them. People always wanted to join or make them, insistent that it would be their claim to fame. Admittedly, it sounded like the opposite of what he and Ellie were trying to do, but they couldn’t live their lives in fear of what a few old farts would do. Besides, they were also known for being a great way to protect and be protected if you were travelling or didn’t have a home of your own to return to. That way you did your bit and weren’t a freeloader while not having to worry about waking up to a creeper.

“There are so many other groups out there that ours won’t stand out a bit. And even once we do start getting known, because we will, the two of us alone could cream them if we wanted to.”

“I don’t doubt that, Magnus. It doesn’t keep my mind from wandering, though, doesn’t keep me from worrying.” She sighed and put down her wrench. “Thank you anyhow.”

Ellegaard stood up and finished cleaning her hands with an oily rag. Magnus leaned back and shrugged, smirk plain as day.

“No problem. _One_ of us has to be levelheaded.” Next thing he knew the rag was on his face.


	41. Illness (Jesse/Petra)

“I’m dying.”

“Quit being so melodramatic. It’s just the flu.” Petra removed her hand from Jesse’s forehead. “You’re getting better already. You don’t feel nearly as hot as you did yesterday.”

“Easy for you to say.” Jesse covered her mouth with her hand as she sneezed, her head feeling to her like an active volcano. She was boiling and freezing at the same time, her head was being hit by a sledgehammer she couldn’t see, and her throat was as dry as a desert. Maybe she was overreacting, but this certainly wasn’t any fun.

“Jesse.” Petra raised an eyebrow and smiled. Jesse sunk lower into the couch and held the blanket closer. “It’s not that bad and you know it.”

Jesse chose to ignore that little fact in favor of getting some sleep. If Petra was her pillow, that was only luck.

* * *

The next day Jesse felt almost as good as new, nothing but a sniffle left. Petra, on the other hand…

“Achoo!”

Well, while it was much more likely that Petra had gotten sick because she’d been around her, Jesse liked to think it was karma.

She smirked while Petra stopped drinking her tea to cough.

“It’s okay, Petra! It’s just the flu, and you’re already getting better.” Jesse chuckled as the redhead glared at her tiredly.

“Not funny.” She sounded like she had a frog in her throat. All joking aside, Jesse _did_ appreciate Petra taking care of her. The least she could do was do the same for her poor girlfriend.

“U-huh.” Jesse grinned as Petra snuggled closer even as she grumbled. She kissed her on her forehead, which felt like it was on fire. “Would you like me to get you some more tea?”

“Mhm.” There was nothing good about being sick, but Jesse could help.


	42. Relax (Jesse/Lukas)

The others were out training and gathering items. Lukas would have been with them, but he had taken an arrow to the knee thanks to a skeleton and had to sit it out so it could heal, and it was unanimously agreed that Jesse needed to take it easy and relax, at least for today. So it was just Lukas and Jesse.

Just him and Jesse, more or less forced to sit tight. Not that they didn’t enjoy each other company. Lukas knew he did. Hours went by and the others didn’t return.

He and Jesse sat and looked at the sun as it went down, at the stars as they came out, all still there despite everything, scoured the area for anything they could’ve missed, and they talked.

They talked about everything and anything that came to mind, about pasts and the future, eager to chase the silence away. The silence let them take in things they didn’t want to, think about what had been haunting them for what felt like years but had only been a few days. The silence was why they didn’t talk of the present.

It got darker and darker, Jesse and Lukas now leaning into each other. The shouts of the others could still be heard some distance away, but they were getting closer. That was all that seemed to be keeping Jesse from going after them.

As Lukas’s arm fell asleep, Jesse did too. It wasn’t until he was snoring that Lukas realized how worn-out he really must have been.

He could always move. Lukas looked down at Jesse as he slept, an actual smile on the other’s face. When was the last time he had smiled like that, like he wasn’t in pain?

Their relationship wasn’t exactly public, but, then again, how secret could it actually be, especially during times like these? And, honestly, who would care?

Even if somebody did, too bad. The world was ending all around them, there were things more important to worry about than whether he and Jesse were "involved" or not.

The others were almost back now, various voices close enough that Lukas could make out what they were saying if he tried.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, glad when, once they must’ve seen Lukas and Jesse, the voices became hushed and gentle.

He was vaguely aware when someone draped a blanket over them later.


	43. Leadership

Jesse grimaced as she shifted her shoulder, blood oozing out from the cut. Her new armor had helped protect her from the brunt of the slice, the green chestplate hardly scratched from it, but spider jockeys were fast and hit hard. She’d beaten it, but it was harder than it should’ve been.

The cut wasn’t too deep, though it stung and she didn’t want it to get infected. Suddenly the wet rag wasn’t in Jesse’s hand and somebody else was holding her shoulder.

“Jesse, hold still.” Petra was inspecting it, hands firmly holding onto her arm. She should have been resting and it looked like she was struggling to stay standing.

“Petra, you can’t- I mean, you’re too-” Petra scowled and Jesse cringed.

“I’m too _what_?” Petra didn’t hold the glare for more than a second before sighing and letting her head droop. “Let me help you.”

“Sorry Petra.” Jesse hissed when the other woman pushed the cloth against the gash.

“It’s fine.” Petra mumbled, but by the way she pressed harder on the scrap, Jesse wasn’t so sure.

“You seem pretty used to it.” Petra raised an eyebrow and Jesse clumsily gestured with her hands. “Cleaning these, I mean.”

“As if anybody’s ever gone to the Nether and _not_ gotten hurt.” Petra turned her head and coughed before continuing. She really should’ve been sleeping. “Please. There’s plenty of stuff here that can hurt you too. It doesn’t take long to learn how to dodge and fight when you have to do things yourself.”

“You don’t have to do them yourself now.” Petra frowned as she shrugged her shoulders.

“It wasn’t always that simple.” She tightened the bandage around Jesse’s shoulder. “Try to be more careful. You’re one of our only fighters now.”

“Petra, we have-” Petra shook her head.

“Who? Me? Gabriel? We’re both too sick to actually be of any help and he can’t remember his own name.” There was a bitter laugh. “Soren and Ellegaard are confused and grieving, understandably. Face it Jesse, you’re one of the best fighters we’ve got. You’re the leader.”

There was that “leader” talk again. Jesse only did what she had to do, she wasn’t leading material. Arrows damaged her even when she had armor on.

“Petra, I’m hardly a leader. Gabriel’s  – _was_ \- a leader, Soren’s a leader, I’m just Jesse.”

“’Just Jesse’ is more than enough. You’re a leader, and you’re the best we could ask for.” Petra seemed to get more and more weary which each and every word, but she continued. “You need to take care of yourself too. Come on Jesse.”

Arguing at this point was just useless.

“I will. Thank you Petra.” Jesse grinned and gently hugged her, trying not to move her shoulder too much as she did. It was awkward, but that seemed to be the only way she could do anything.

She would take better care of her injuries.

She’d at least make sure she didn’t worry her friends.

Jesse? A leader?

Yeah right.


	44. Blurt (Jesse/Petra)

Jesse and Petra walked side by side as the sun rose, both of them in the forest not far from their new temple.

It was the same forest most of them had lived in before everything had changed.

Petra still knew exactly where that cave, her cave, was, the portal to the Nether she’d had hidden deep inside it probably gathering dust by now.

Things changed, people moved on.

Nevertheless, the more they changed, the more they stayed the same.

For example, Petra couldn’t flirt if her life depended on it. For the most part, that was completely fine with her. She was too busy trying to stay alive and making deals to care about romance.

Things had shifted, for better or worse. They’d become the new order, and being a mercenary wasn’t her thing anymore. The friendships between Petra and the others had become stronger than obsidian.

And now there wasn’t a day that went by that Petra didn’t think about telling Jesse the truth.

It had been hard enough for Petra to swallow at first, the idea that maybe, just maybe, she was head-over-heels in love with Jesse.

Flirting was out the window, so she’d have to tell her straight up, plain and simple.

That was, she would if Jesse ever stopped talking.

Normally Petra was content to let Jesse do most of the talking for the both of them, but it seemed that every time she opened her mouth Jesse would think of something else to say.

Her temper reached its limit after the fourth time.

“Will you shut up a moment so I can tell you I’m in love with you?!” There was one horrible second of pure, awkward silence before Petra turned.

“Petra, I-”

“Sorry Jesse, I’ve gotta go. See you later.” She started walking faster, the brown leaves beneath her feet crunching as she did.

“Petra, wait!” Jesse grabbed her by the shoulder. Petra froze but refused to look at the other woman. If she wanted to, she could easily get her shoulder back. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

If there was one thing to be said about Jesse, it was that their adventure had changed her. She’d become more confident, was far braver than the terrified person Petra had had to save from spiders. Sometimes it was hard to remember that.

Maybe that was why Jesse kissing her was such a surprise.


	45. Grieve

Jesse was beside Lukas as they walked the now familiar path. Every year they did this, Lukas declining offers to go with the rest of their friends. The others would come by later, once they were done with today’s work.

Both of them looked up as the ground seemed to shake, smoke visible above the treetops. Lukas smiled and Jesse chuckled as the rumble faded.

“Axel’s never been good at doing things small.” The prince of Boomtown had visited along with Magnus to celebrate. It sounded like they were kicking things off a little early.

Jesse’d be amazed if Olivia was still sane by the end.

Lukas didn’t reply as he started to walk again.

Ten years since the Witherstorms had fallen. Had it really been that long already?

Jesse thought back to when they’d only been scared, barely more than teenagers. They’d seen heroes die, seen heroes rise, and throughout it all they’d simply been trying to survive. It hadn’t come free or easy, but eventually they’d won.

It was a gorgeous day too. Bright sunlight shined through the green tree leaves and onto the soft grassy ground as birds sang and children laughed in the distance.

Their walk ended and Lukas slowed.

They both sat down in front of the tombstone, the words engraved just as clear as they had been a decade ago.

It never seemed to get easier.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Jesse tried in vain to wipe the tear from Lukas’s eye.

He didn’t hear her. He never did. Lukas’s fingers curled into the grass and dug at the dirt as he kept his head down, refusing to look at the stone marker marring the clearing.

In all honesty, it was the best Jesse could’ve ever asked for. It didn’t feel _right_ , though, to look at her own gravestone.


	46. Silence

Lukas opened his eyes suddenly and sat straight up, the last traces of the nightmare still holding on.

Jesse was also sitting up, one of his arms wrapped closely around him and a hand firmly planted on his mouth.

He rocked back and forth slightly as he shook. As Lukas’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, he could make out the tear tracks on Jesse’s face.

“Jesse?” Lukas looked around as he sat down next to him. The only other one up seemed to be Soren, on watch a good ways away. He didn’t seem to know they were awake. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, black tangled hair an even bigger mess than it normally was. A hand tried to lightly shove Lukas away.

He didn’t get a verbal answer, but he didn’t expect one. Lukas had no idea if Jesse was quiet by choice or not, but he supposed it didn’t really matter.

Jesse angrily pointed to the green armor he was wearing.

It clicked.

Really, what else could it be?

Jesse pointed at himself again, though Lukas had a feeling it wasn’t for emphasis.

Jesse never needed to speak. Sometimes his eyes said more than he ever could.

“It’s not your fault.” Lukas closed his eyes, the scene of that monstrosity rising playing through his head again. Three Witherstorms loose, a member of the order dead, another one an amnesiac, Petra sick, and more people than he could count recaptured. It had been awful, but it was hardly Jesse’s fault. “You tried, we all tried. You had no idea what was going to happen.”

Lukas hugged him, Jesse quickly giving in and gripping him tightly.

As quiet as he liked to be, Jesse wasn’t going to have to go through this silently or alone.


	47. Panic

Everything stopped as Olivia ran towards them like the place was about to explode. Jesse? Attacked by an Enderman? How- What had he even been doing out there?

Lukas was running.

He heard the others running behind him, heard their shouts of surprise. There wasn’t time to waste.

It was the incident with Petra all over again. Because he’d frozen up, she was gone. She’d been taken and wasn’t coming back; she was dead because of him.

They were lucky Gabriel had made it.

They weren’t going to go through that again. He wasn’t going to be a coward again.

Lukas quickly reached and opened the door (Was that music?).

Jesse, thank Notch, was inside. There was no Endermen nearby, they were all outside, though Jesse was wearing something strange. He seemed fine, he was okay, he was with-

Was that…?

Lukas stared at the odd red-haired man.

Everyone else caught up and everything was a rush again. It felt too strange to be real.

Soren?

Lukas held tightly onto Jesse’s hand as he pulled him back, more for his own sake if he was being honest.

Jesse was still here, was alive. It was going to stay that way.


	48. Wounds

Ellegaard sat on the couch with a wet cloth in her hand, a needle beside her, and Magnus’s head in front of her as he sat on the floor.

Magnus, as usual, hadn’t been thinking and had gone and injured himself. Ellegaard wondered as she finished cleaning the cut why she was even surprised at this point. He would never change, for better or for worse.

When it came down to it, this was Magnus. This was the griefer who drove her insane every day. This was her best friend.

Her best friend who took stupid dares when he definitely should’ve known better. Gabriel had been joking and they all had known it, but no, Magnus couldn’t let it lie, could he?

He was lucky this, a few cuts and large bruises, was all the damage he took from the fall. If he hadn’t had his armor on…

She’d be trying to piece together the remains of a griefer instead of only fixing one of the many holes in his head.

Not that Magnus seemed to care. He grumbled and kept shifting, pausing every now and then when Ellegaard pressed too hard on the tender spot.

She didn’t exactly feel sorry for him; this was his own doing and he was reaping the “benefits”. What he’d thought was going to happen, she’d never know. He was lucky she was even helping him instead of letting him patch it up himself. Ivor had made it clear that none of his healing potions were going to be given to “certain idiots that like to jump without using their brains”.

…

No, she was right to help him. Magnus knew very well how to tend his own wounds without any aid, but that didn’t mean he had to do it that way.

Not anymore.

There was a mumbled “thanks” halfway through wrapping it up before Magnus fell silent again.

The sun sank beneath the nearby mountains as Ellegaard finally finished.

“Alright Magnus, I’m done- Magnus?” There was a noise louder than a horde of zombies.

Of course.

Ellegaard looked down at the snoring Magnus with a smile. Dealing with him could be exciting, exasperating, thrilling, and enraging all at once.

Then there were times like this when she was just happy.

For all his talk and bluster, he was only human and he knew it.

They both knew it.

She’d let him sleep.


	49. Stranded

Oh, this was just great. Lukas looked up as he started to more or less drag Jesse. The brunette was down and out for the count.

He most likely wouldn’t wake up for a few hours.

The skies crackled and flashed, enormous inky clouds seemingly blocking out everything.

Where were the others? Where was anybody?

There wasn’t anyone else around, as far as the eye could see. There was hard clay and dead trees everywhere, along with a misty fog that chilled them both to the bone.

It hadn’t started out this way. Lukas wondered as he finally saw a cave how it had gone wrong so quickly.

They’d been travelling by horses again, trying to find somewhere safe.

The storm had hit violently, spooking their rides. Lukas and Jesse’s had bolted away from the others and bucked them off here.

Lukas had a few scrapes, but was mostly fine. Jesse, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky.

They didn’t have many supplies, had little drinkable water, and had almost no food.

Somehow Lukas didn’t think they’d be fortunate enough to meet up with someone else before nightfall.

What did they have?

A torch and some cobblestone he could use to seal off the cave’s mouth. Lukas sighed and looked off into the murky water at the other end. The cave was smaller than it seemed, though there were no monsters.

This was as safe as they were getting.

Lightning struck yet again outside and Lukas caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

Blood. There was blood on his hands, which meant…

Lukas quickly checked.

Sure enough, Jesse had at least one cut in his head, blood very slowly making its way out.

Lukas tried to wrap it, the end result amateurish at best. Something was better than nothing, Lukas supposed as he rested Jesse’s head down on his jacket.

They were lost. None of them knew what to do now, not even the remaining order members.

Soren had the amulet, it’d only felt right to let him have it, so there was no way for Lukas and Jesse to find the others.

So the best Lukas could do was wait and make sure Jesse got better once he woke up.

Hours later, how many Lukas didn’t know, Jesse groaned, his foot twitching.

 “How are you feeling?” Lukas helped him sit up and tried to keep his voice calm.

“Could be worse.” Jesse cringed as he sat up. “But not by much.”

“Sorry.” Lukas offered him the water, which Jesse took.

“Where are we, anyways?”

“Wish I knew.” He paused. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember riding. The storm, lightning, I-” Jesse’s eyes widened for a brief second. “I remember. Where’s everyone else?”

“No idea.”

“I have to find them.” Jesse quickly stood before uneasily sitting down, holding his head with one hand.

“Jesse, are you nuts? You’ll get lost out there.” Lukas shook his head. “We’ll have to wait for it to stop.”


	50. Together (Jesse/Lukas)

White, puffy clouds engulfed and hid the tops of the mountains, and there was a blanket of ice coating everything. There were small, silver flurries that danced wildly across the ground, tossing snow to and fro.

It was a date in all but name, Lukas and Jesse enjoying a night to themselves out in the mountains and under the stars.

By all rights, they should’ve been cold. If they’d tried this when they were younger, they definitely would’ve ended up frozen inside and out.

They both had much more experience now, though, and their shelter for the night was enough to keep them safe and warm.

It had a glass roof, allowing them to see the night sky, and the two windows they’d added letting them look out at the winter wonderland.

They were safe behind the glass and cobblestone, the fire was bright and warm, and if anything tried to come through the door both of them had their swords in arms reach.

The past years, this one especially, had been a blur. Lukas could hardly pull apart the various adventures they’d gone on since they’d defeated the Witherstorms.

They’d slowed down at first; everyone had needed time to heal and no one needed saving then.

Then it had been nonstop.

 “Love you.” Jesse pulled him closer, more or less nuzzling his neck now.

“Love you too.” Lukas wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.

Somehow, they had survived. Somehow, Jesse and her friends were the new Order of the Stone. Somehow, she still loved him.

They weren’t married, and maybe they never would be, but their relationship –or whatever you wanted to call it- was more than enough.

He loved Jesse and she loved him, and that was all he needed.

She didn’t blame Lukas for going after his friends, who thank Notch _had_ survived and had been equally happy to see him, didn’t seem bothered that he’d turned down joining the new order.

The Ocelots were a sort of back up to the order now, and it wasn’t uncommon for Jesse to ask them all if they’d mind helping out here and there.

Just because he was sticking with his own team didn’t mean they couldn’t be together.

Soon Jesse was asleep, her head lying on his chest, and a light snow started to fall.

If he could've, Lukas would’ve made the night last forever.


	51. Crush (Jesse/Lukas)

For the most part, Jesse considered Lukas a good friend. He rarely spoke harshly, but he was almost always honest. He laughed at her jokes and made ones she laughed at. She saved his life and he saved hers.

So it really got confusing when all of a sudden she started blushing at his compliments and felt her heart race when they touched.

Maybe she'd had a small crush on him at first, how could you not love that hair? It’d faded when more important things, like people dying around them and friends coming back with amnesia, started to pop up.

Now that that was all over, it had decided to come back.

They weren’t teenagers, but Jesse felt just as nervous dealing with it now as she would’ve back then.

There were many ways to deal with a pesky crush that had returned ten times strong. There was ignoring it, which sounded promising but didn’t seem to work. There was telling someone else and getting advice, which she'd almost done multiple times now. And of course there was acting on it, a not so good or smart decision.

Naturally, Jesse chose option number three, and that was why she was kissing Lukas.

On the mouth.

They’d been talking to each other, sitting side by side on Lukas’s bed as they went over all the things they had left to do and all the things they had done, and, oh, by the way Lukas you look really cute-

By all means, she should've been pushed off and questioned. Repeatedly.

Instead, Lukas was kissing her back.

Their hands roamed each other's bodies, hair was ruffled and mussed, a certain jacket came off while an overall strap or two was undone, and it was a darned good thing the door was closed.


	52. Jazz

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” Petra wasn’t quite sure if she was actually hearing this. “Jesse, are you crazy?”

“Come on Petra, live a little!” Right, because what was living if it wasn’t getting soaked and struck by lightning?

Jesse laughed as she looked up at the dark sky and Petra was torn between rolling her eyes and laughing too.

She decided to smile instead.

 _This_ was the same woman who’d been scared of going into dark alleys and caves.

What was a little rain?

They had nowhere to be, no place to rush to.

What could it hurt?

“Oh, alright.”

Jesse’s wide grin was catching, and soon the two were grinning like loons.

Petra quickly took Jesse’s hands, much to her surprise, and the redhead span the brunette on the lush wet grass.

If they were going to stay in the rain, then they were going to have some fun.

The rain was coming down fast, but soon they were so drenched that neither of them could tell.

One thing led to another, and the two of them danced, fast and wild to a song that nobody could hear.


	53. Memories (Soren/Ivor/Gabriel)

Soren turned his head away from the cave’s entrance as he caught his breath, the abomination outside continuing to screech as it tore the world apart.

Why was it still alive?

It had seemed that Jesse had destroyed it with the Formidi-Bomb.

So what had gone wrong?

Soren looked around, intent on finding Jesse.

 _Ah_!

Jesse was there talking to-

Gabriel?

All thoughts of questioning Jesse fled from Soren’s mind.

The warrior looked slightly pale, and his eyes didn’t seem quite right, but there was no denying that it was him.

Magnus and Soren both ran over to him, shock turning into elation.

Magnus was, of course, overjoyed. Soren himself felt quite ecstatic. He’d learned mere hours ago about their friend’s supposed death.

… Right before their _other_ friend’s certain death.

It had happened less than an hour ago, the body was undoubtedly still losing warmth, and Jesse was wearing Ellegaard’s armor.

What fun it was, to see good friends again only to lose them once more.

_Dammit, Ivor! Was it too much to ask for you to let things be?_

Sharp, icy fingers clenched tighter around Soren’s heart as Gabriel spoke.

“Who are you people?” It had been too good to be true, naturally.

“We’ve known each other for years, decades now.” Soren didn’t say.

Images of a time many years ago flashed by, of times when they’d all been exploring, relaxing, fighting, and training. For a while there, Soren had actually thought they’d truly take on the beast. He’d believed it as much as they had.

He’d underestimated his own cowardice.

“You were beside me even at my lowest points, when I lied and cheated so we could succeed. None of us quite knew what to do after that, but you stayed and we tried to work it out. After all, _technically_ it wasn’t inaccurate. _Technically_ we won.” He also didn’t say. “As pathetic as it is, you were my second real friend, the second person to look and actually see me as a human being instead of some tool. You were the last person to leave me, and when you left you tried to make it as painless as you could.”

“You continued to love me when Ivor left us, cared when by all rights you shouldn’t have. You never blamed me for ruining the relationship the three of us had, the friendship we all shared.” Soren could’ve said.

More pictures and memories on splintered repeat tried to drown him.

Sneaking the command block along when they’d entered The End, just in case.

The confused and enraged looks on his friends’ faces, their one honest goal swindled away and corrupted.

That blasted shouting match with Ivor, the one that had ended with the Order shattered.

So much had happened, so much that he could’ve stopped…

Soren looked at the man in front of him, the man he’d known so well.

 “It’s Soren. We’ve known each other for a- a very long time.” Is what he said instead.


	54. Waltz

To put it simply, Lukas was a fantastically remarkable dancer, practically gliding with each and every step across the floor while Jesse could only stumble in a very poor attempt to keep up.

Where he flew, she faltered, and Jesse felt as if her every step was two behind his.

In her defense, you didn’t need to dance when you were a pig farmer’s daughter. You didn’t need to dance when you were an adventurer and builder.

While she _could_ dance, they all tended to be more on the spot, and wild. She wasn’t anywhere near as good at formal dancing as Lukas was.

He didn’t care, though. They both laughed and smiled as the soft, slow music flowed on in the background, and they leaned into each other and danced the night away. They were dressed in rather simple clothes, no armor or anything fancy on, because there was no need.

Earlier they had danced much faster, and then much slower. Now was a strange balance of the two.

She and Lukas had their own shared rhythm, and that was all they needed.

You never know when that rhythm, that thrum of vibrant life and exuberant joy, will stop.


	55. Redeem (Jesse/Lukas)

“Please, Jesse.”

Jesse’s touch could kill Lukas if he wasn’t careful. Lukas had seen what affect wither sickness had had on the infected.

Did he have a choice, though?

It was either this or run again, run in the desperate hope that he’d actually find someone else.

How many of their group was dead?

How many of his own friends had Jesse killed?

Jesse’s own best friends, who’d known him for years, couldn’t get through to him. Olivia had almost lost an arm trying, and Axel had still had that limp the last time Lukas had seen him.

If they couldn’t do it, how could Lukas?

Either he would succeed, or he would die. He was tired of running, of not knowing if today was his last day. What was there to live for anyhow?

All of Lukas’s old friends were most likely dead, and the same could be said for his new ones.

His boyfriend wanted to kill him and had been slaughtering innocent people against his own will.

Maybe it was Lukas’s own way of not being a coward this time.

Maybe there was a chance that Jesse’s walls had been chipped and torn enough that he could get through.

Jesse charged towards him, sword out. Lukas shut his eyes and braced for the inevitable impact.

“Lukas?” It never came. Lukas carefully opened his eyes.

Jesse’s skin hadn’t changed, those black splotches hadn’t disappeared, but his eyes were back to normal, were that wonderful green instead of the toxic purple they had been.

And the bloody gold sword wasn’t in Lukas like he expected; it was slipping out of Jesse’s hand.

“Jesse, come on. We have to get out of here!” Lukas managed to find his voice as he grabbed Jesse’s hand and started running.

It could be a trick; a ruse to get him to drop his guard.

What if it wasn’t permanent?

Would he lose Jesse just as soon as he had gotten him back?

Even if neither of those were true, Lukas had no idea when or how they would find the others.

Magnus’s light on the amulet was incredibly faint, and there was no guess as to why Ellegaard’s was completely dead.

So much death and decay, so many things neither of them knew, so many people missing.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was a step in the right direction.


	56. Unlikely (Lukas/Axel)

It'd been another exciting, long day, and Lukas struggled to keep his head up. While it was great that they could help so many people now, the amount of people who needed it was staggeringly high.

Thankfully, the latest crisis had been taken care of and things with the Pigmen had been smoothed back out. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to worry about that again any time soon.

Lukas smiled as he looked out at the starry night sky from where he sat, fireworks going off not far away.

One year since the Witherstorms had died. Laughter could be heard almost everywhere, the party being held in the center of town.

The last Lukas had seen was Aiden, Maya, and Gill all doing some frenzied three person dance. He’d probably be dancing with someone himself right now if he wasn’t so tired, but he hadn’t slept in over three days and it’d taken its toll.

It was great to see everyone so happy.

Lukas closed his eyes and let his head rest in his hands, telling himself he’d head to bed soon.

Darkness took him before he could.

Sometime later, when it was even darker outside and most of the laughter had faded, a hand grabbed his shoulder and gently shook him back awake.

Lukas blearily opened his eyes as he looked behind him, though there weren’t too many guesses as to who the large, calloused hand belonged to.

When had Axel ended up there? He’d heard the other man’s attempts at sneaking, a creeper swarm was quieter, how hadn’t he heard him?

“You might wanna get to bed.” His boyfriend helped him stand.

Huh. _Boyfriend_. Wasn’t that something?

Their relationship wasn’t typical, not in the slightest.

At first it had started with little things between them, like Axel helping Lukas rebuild parts of the village during his breaks and Lukas letting Axel have whatever on hand materials he needed. The small favors had grown, and, almost like a contest, they seemed to be trying to outdo each other. Lukas would help Axel with his TNT excavations, which were far more fun than they'd looked at first, and whenever Lukas started building something he didn't have to go far to find someone willing to help craft or gather resources.

The way to thank the favors became more intimate too, shifting from smiles and nods to pats on the back and friendly hugs. It'd appeared like any leftover grudges had been taken care of and that they'd managed to become good friends.

Then there'd been that one night, where they both had maybe had just a bit too much to drink. Those memories were fuzzy, but Lukas distinctly remembered a drinking contest had been involved.

Not the best way to make that kind of confession, admittedly, but they both had and there was no changing that.

After that, the hugs had become kisses and it'd escalated from there.

“Yeah, sure.” Lukas didn’t say anything else as he looped his arm through Axel’s.


	57. Crumble (Jesse/Lukas)

When Jesse hit the ground, it felt as if every bone in his body had been shattered. Not even Ellegaard's armor could have saved him from the impact. Jesse wondered to himself if it would be anywhere near as painful if he'd chosen Ivor's newer, sturdier armor instead. His vision swam and it was hard to hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. Despite all of that, he managed to see the giant remains of the Witherstorm falling, heard and felt them as they too struck the dirt.

Where was Reuben, who'd fallen before he had? Had he managed to land in the water or was he in pain somewhere, in need of help?

He had to get up, for Reuben. He had to get up so he could find his friends. What if they weren't okay, weren’t safe?

Jesse tried to stand, but he couldn't. It hurt. His body felt like liquid and he was boiling, every breath stung and stabbed him.

He fell back to the ground with a strangled cry, his legs refusing to cooperate any longer. Jesse tried to steady himself, shut his eyes and took deep breaths even though each one burned.

A wet snout pressed up against Jesse's side, startling him. So Reuben _had_ fallen in the lake. He relaxed and let his head droop; Reuben was okay.

"Hey boy." Jesse shakily brought up a hand and scratched behind one of Reuben's ears. Reuben pressed closer with an oink, concern practically radiating from the faithful pig.

"Jesse? Jesse!" Reuben wasn't the only one to find him.

"We won?"

"You did it." Jesse squeezed Lukas's hand with a smile as the other man talked.

" _We_ did it. Can't forget Reuben and you guys." He looked up, which was more difficult than it should've been, at his other friends. He was happy to see that Petra's eyes were back to normal, maybe her memory was back. Jesse tried to chuckle, but it came out rough and sounded more like a cough than anything else. "You did more than me."

"Come on Jesse, we'll get you out of here." Lukas started to get Jesse's arm over his shoulder, but it was limp. Jesse couldn't control or move it, as much as he wanted to. Everything felt numb.

"At least it's over." And the numbness became a beckoning dimness, a promise of sleep.

"Jesse?" Lukas squeezed his hand tightly. "We can get you help, a potion, something, please stay awake."

"Lukas, I c-can't." Jesse took in another breath and let his smile fall. He felt so tired, and rest sounded so nice. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Jesse!"

"Love- y-you." Jesse let his eyes slide shut.

As everything went black he could hear something about Ivor.

He didn't see the tears slipping down Petra's face. He didn't feel Axel picking him up, didn't hear Lukas frantically shouting for help from the gathering crowd, never saw Olivia pick up Reuben and hold him tight.

He'd never know.


	58. Muscles (Jesse/Lukas)

It was a warm spring night, and Jesse could hear the rustling of the leaves outside as the wind swirled and swayed gently through the forest.

Lukas snored softly, his arms around Jesse and Jesse's arms around him.

Jesse looked over his boyfriend, nowhere near as drained as Lukas had been.

There was no question as to which of them had the better hair; Lukas's was seemingly well kept in almost any situation. Never mind how soft it actually was, how it looked alone was enough to drive Jesse crazy.

And then those arms...

It wasn't often that Lukas didn't have his arms covered and hidden by his black jacket. Sometimes, after particularly long and trying days, he would just go to bed with the thing on, too tired to bother taking it off.

Jesse didn't mind, Lukas loved his jacket and it certainly was very nice, but he appreciated being able to feel those arms skin to skin, to see them without any obstruction.

They were incredibly muscular, no surprise given all the building, running, and fighting they seemed to do every day. Jesse thought that it felt rather nice to have both of those arms wrapped around him.


	59. Search

Magnus froze, hand still in the chest as he realized someone was in the room with him.

"You need something, Gabe?" He turned his head and kept his eyes off his old friend while he talked.

"Magnus, what are you doing?" As if he didn't know.

"What does it look like?" Magnus went back to looking at the items in the box, knowing Gabriel wasn't going to go away any time soon.

"So you _are_ leaving." He didn't sound angry or ready to fight at all. If anything, he was resigned. "Can nothing I say change your mind?"

Earlier, when talking to Jesse about getting the amulet to show the new order instead of the old one, both Gabriel and Magnus had seen it light up. That didn't matter so much as which light had.

The red one. _Ellie's_.

It had been incredibly faint, but it was there.

They'd never found her body. Soren wasn't a doctor, not by any means or stretch of the imagination, how could they take his word? Yeah, Magnus had been there, but they didn't have any time to check. It was easy to confuse somebody knocked out as a corpse, almost all of Ellie's injuries had been internal. What if she had survived?

There was a chance, wasn't there?

If one of the storms had sucked her up while she was alive, she would've been with the other people. Magnus hadn't seen her, but what if she'd managed to get away before one of them could?

_His best friend, broken and in pain, limping, crawling away desperately in a hasty attempt to get away..._

At the very best, she'd been unconscious when they'd had to run, she wouldn't be able to escape by herself.

If somebody else had helped her, though...

Too many damn what-ifs and maybes. He wouldn't know until he looked.

"Gabe, let me try. Give me a chance."

"Magnus, there's no need to do this to yourself, you still have-" Magnus clenched his hands into fists and cut the other man off.

"What? My kingdom? All the griefers in the world want me dead. We're not the order anymore, if we ever actually were. Ellie's all I've got left, and if she's not really gone..."

"You have me and Ivor." They were missing Soren too, and no one had seen him in weeks. Even after they’d gotten back together, they were falling apart.

"Look, Gabe, please. I appreciate it, but I need to know. She could still be out there, and if she is I need to find her." Magnus sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand. He abruptly stopped and looked back up at Gabriel, new idea forming. "You could come with me?"

Somehow the warrior's answer didn't surprise him.

"I wish I could Magnus, but I need to do my duty and that means helping Jesse and his friends with their rebuilding efforts." Gabriel left the room, leaving Magnus alone again. "I wish you the best of luck."


	60. Selfish

Jesse looked at Lukas, who was tenser than a creeper surrounded by dynamite, and wondered what in the world he was going to say.

Maybe he was supposed to cheer Lukas on, let him know that yes, he was doing the right thing.

There had to be a reason Lukas was friends with them, something Jesse wasn’t seeing. Perhaps they weren’t so bad to their leader.

Jesse thought of all the times Aiden had made some smug comment, the many, many ways Gill had insulted them, how often Maya had outright laughed at their failures. Those things didn’t bother Jesse anymore, not really, not the way they had when they were all kids, but he knew how it had affected his friends.

Olivia rarely ever said anything positive about herself, did those jerks’ constant bragging and heckling help? Whenever she had been excited around them, they always shut her down in the most obnoxious way possible. Now it was hard for her to open up even to her best friends.

Axel was different from all of them in size alone, so of course the Ocelots had to constantly snicker and joke about it. If there was anything he was sensitive about, it would be that.

Couldn’t forget all the times Reuben had been called food, how Aiden had tried to cook him alive with freaking _lava_.

Lukas was the only one of the four who’d treated Jesse and his friends with anything resembling kindness.

Maybe that was the whole reason he wanted to leave. Lukas was kinder than he should’ve been, almost to a fault. What if the entire reason he wanted to save them was because he felt obligated?

As Lukas’s friend, could Jesse really encourage him to go riding off into danger?

Honestly?

Lukas could be killed, anything could happen. The Witherstorms could smash him to bits or suck him up, killing him, making him sick, giving him amnesia like Gabriel, or-

No. Not happening.

It wasn’t that Jesse wanted them dead or anything, but…

Quite frankly, the Ocelots didn’t deserve Lukas or his help.

They needed Lukas here, where he was safer. Jesse could protect him better here, try to at least.

 _Jesse_ needed him, and you know what?

They were saving the world. It was okay to be a little selfish sometimes.

“I’m asking you, as a friend: please stay, Lukas.”


	61. Cornered

Jesse stood there, eyes purple and glowing, holding his blood splattered golden sword. Olivia tried to stay upright, but her bleeding leg didn’t make that easy.

“Nothing to say to an old friend? You were always the quiet one.” He didn’t pause as he chuckled, sword gleaming in the torchlight. “I wonder how loud I can make you scream.”

“Jesse, please, you don’t have to do this.” Olivia looked around, but she saw no one.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He grinned with those unnaturally pointed teeth. “But I _want_ to.”

Olivia took a shaky step back, mind blank. She had no armor, no weapons, no hope.

Well, she would’ve had no hope, if her other best friend, who wasn’t trying to kill her and wasn’t possessed by the Witherstorms, didn’t decide to help.

Axel wasn’t sneaky, and Olivia knew just as well as he did that he wasn’t going to hurt Jesse, but it felt better to have him beside her. Marginally, at least.

“You’ll have to get through me first.” He was holding unlit TNT in one hand and flint and steel in the other. “Come on Jesse, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“You’re going to let me kill two birds with one stone?” Jesse raised an eyebrow and his grin grew. “Or, in this case, two cowards?”

If the two of them ran now, what chance was there that they’d get to safety before Jesse caught up with them? Olivia would slow them down with her injury, and all he would have to do was touch one of them to make them infected.

“You’ll have to catch the birds first.” Quite suddenly, Axel turned, picked up Olivia, and ran.

All she could do was hold on for dear life and hope that they had a chance.


	62. You (Ellegaard/Magnus) (Jesse/Lukas)

Once it was all said and done, once dues were paid and memories respected, you climbed up this little tower in the middle of it all and you stayed put and watched from the balcony.

You stood there for a long time, watched the sun set and the moon come up. You saw the world change as night overtook day, as the little village you were staying in both went to sleep and came alive as the moon rose.

You’d seen far more impressive before, but it was quaint, charming even. It was perhaps more exciting now than it would’ve been before, with inhabitants who had been plucked from all over the world staying there tonight too.

You stood there, watching it all from above, when you were unexpectedly joined by him.

You thought Lukas was nice enough and didn’t object to his presence.

His eyes brimmed with unshed tears but neither of you mentioned it.

The others were probably still at the grave.

You weren’t sure of his relationship with Jesse, if it was simply a friendship or something more, but his pain was clear.

For a brief second, you considered comforting him, letting him know he was not alone in his aching.

Who hadn’t lost someone dear to them?

Doing that, though, would mean admitting it. Admitting your own mistakes, your own lost love.

It would be trespassing during his time of grieving, overstepping boundaries neither of you knew how to tackle.

It would have put more baggage on him than it would have taken off, wouldn’t it?

So you didn’t say anything.

You sighed as he left and considered going to bed. Notch knew staying up wasn’t helping you in the slightest. Even with your best efforts, you couldn’t outrun your mistakes.

Perhaps that was why you and Soren got along so well.

You always were a coward, weren’t you Ellegaard?


	63. Trickery

“I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.” Ivor didn’t look back as he spoke, venom boiling in his skin and in his words.

“And I hope one day you find happiness, Ivor.” There he was again, trying to act as if he was in the right.

Ivor said nothing as he drank the invisibility potion.

Of all people, Soren knew damned well he’d been happy. Soren knew he had taken that happiness away.

He’d been happy. Cautious, perhaps, but with four other rash people to care and worry about he had to be.

They’d cared for each other, saved one another, been so close. Slaying the dragon was supposed to be their crowning achievement, their way of proving who they were as a team and as friends.

Instead it was what had split them apart.

The irony was not lost on him.

They’d used the command block many times, but they always tried to actually do their quests themselves. If they were going to explore something, they would do it, if they wanted to find somethig, they would find it rather than create it. In a way, it was compensation, a cheap tactic to make the cheating seem more honest.

If they wanted to slay something, they would do it by hand. Using the command block to save someone, if it came down to that and if the many potions Ivor had made sure to bring along weren’t enough, he would understand.

Using it to blink the dragon away immediately, before they had a chance to try…

_He promised. He swore he would never-_

Ivor walked faster as the roar of the crowds seemed to fill his head.

There was being cautious and learning from mistakes, avoiding obstacles altogether through common sense.

Then there was being a coward, running away in the face of a true challenge.

Gabriel, Magnus, Ellegaard, they’d all agreed to keep up the charade. They did indeed agree of their own free will; none of them had stood by him.

Soren had panicked like a cornered animal, too scared yet again to face reality calmly and rationally. He had made them pick sides, made them choose.

The fact that they chose Soren over him stung worse than any poison, but that was the way it was. _That_ was their fault, and in turn his.

They had been a family, he thought- he’d deluded himself into thinking, believing that.

Was it yet another lie concocted by Soren?

No. The friendships had been strong, the relationships real. But some things mattered more to some people, and he’d been foolish to think otherwise.

The woods became thicker, the chanting of happy people and the lies further and further behind him.

In all honesty, he couldn’t understand it. Where was the glory, the satisfaction, in gaining fame and recognition from a lie?

How could Soren have thought that was best?

One day they would see. Their lie would only take them so far.


	64. Sky

For her own sake, Ellegaard rarely thinks of her past. There’s no use in digging up old fears and worries. However, she’s reminded of a poem as Magnus sticks a rather insane landing. He and Gabriel have spent the day so far challenging each other with various dares, each more difficult and impressive than the last.

One line of that poem in particular, in fact, refuses to leave.

All proper ladies are supposed to be well-spoken and well-educated, and as such Ellegaard read quite a bit of poetry when she rather would have been inventing.

Not that she was ever allowed to speak such wishes, but that’s besides the point.

At the time the line had stuck with her because she found it so odd.

_Because even the sun can envy the stars._

Why would, even in a personified setting, the sun envy stars, such insignificant, if appealing, things?

At the time it didn’t matter if she understood it or not, she simply finished it and went on to another, and the rest of the poem slips her mind.

Now she thinks she knows.

The sun, while important in its own right, is only a single star and is not known for its beauty. It is often reliable and is useful, but there’s not much else to say about it. The stars are constantly hailed as decorations of the sky, and when one digs deeper, they learn that the stars are actually all suns, as it were. The stars are more than a single sun could ever hope to be, and even when simplified, the stars are more desirable. They're easier to look at, more fascinating to ponder.

Ellegaard looks at her best friend, laughing hard as he slaps Gabriel on the back.

He’s so full of life and energy that sometimes it’s hard to keep up. She knows that she, in turn, is not a very interesting person.

Oh, sure, what she can do with Redstone gets attention, but it’s not her that anyone is examining or talking about.

She knows how intelligent and crafty he is, and that his knowledge tends to be more practical and applicable than hers. She knows she often berates his intelligence and wonders if he truly believes he’s stupid.

Perhaps it’s too narcissistic, but in this case she is the sun.

And there's no doubt as to who the stars she envies is.


	65. Claustrophobic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With fem!Lukas and set pre-Witherstorm because I’m an awful writer and I can.

He was terrified of small spaces and she knew.

The screaming, however muffled, stopped and she ran faster.

They had all known, that was why this had happened in the first place.

She had never known it was this bad, though.

Luka quickly unbolted the iron shack door, grimacing when she saw Jesse curled up in a corner with his hands over his head.

If she had, she wouldn’t have ever let Aiden-

It didn’t matter now.

The little stone and iron shed had been built to hold rambunctious animals and dangerous equipment during Endercon, but neither was in there currently.

She helped him leave, him refusing to look anywhere but at the ground. He practically collapsed when they got out.

She didn’t get involved with the rivalry, tried her hardest not to, but this was too far. Luka was sure none of her friends had known this was what was going to happen.

It was after building, the Ocelots had won again. It wasn’t like locking Jesse in here had been cheating. Mostly, it had just been to annoy him. Give him a little scare.

Other people joined them, calling Jesse’s name as they ran over.

Axel rubbed his back while Olivia offered him some water, and Reuben simply leaned into his master.

Luka was aware they were glaring at her, even the pig was, why were- oh.

Because right now, their best friend was a hyperventilating mess and she was the only one around. There was no secret about how much their teams _loved_ each other either.

Luka wasn’t too proud to admit that she turned tail and ran right there.

Aiden was thoroughly chewed out later, and they all agreed that there would be no more pranks involving Jesse’s claustrophobia.

It was _not_ going to happen again.


	66. Recollection (Maya/Gill)

Maya doesn’t say much to people who aren’t her friends, and she usually has plenty of time to think.

So she thinks.

She remembers that first night, when it’d been terrifying for all of them. She’d been so happy to find Aiden and Gill, to find them both alive. Aiden had had a busted lip, Gill, a black eye, and Maya herself had had a bloody nose, but none of them had broken anything.

Lukas-

They’d assumed the worst. They’d had to.

The next day was a panicked blur, with hasty plans made to get the three of them all away.

When it had failed, when they had been sucked up, and it’s hard to believe the eternity in the black had only really been for a few days, she’d thought it was the end.

Maya remembers kissing Gill, holding on tightly to both him and Aiden as they were torn away from the ground.

She remembers running away when the monster rose up again, when there were three abominations. That time they _had_ managed to get and stay away.

She remembers.

Lukas, finding them, not dead but alive and well.

Maya smiles and she remembers the tackle hug he’d gotten, remembers all the laughter there had been.

And she remembers the way he’d asked them if they would help him save his other friends, people they’d never gotten along with before.

She remembers the years of arguing and insults between them, and she remembers how she agreed in a heartbeat along with the other two because they were so happy to see Lukas again.

She remembers that he’s their leader, and that she will always follow him to the ends of the world.

Gill’s grip around her hand becomes tighter and she grins.

Sometimes it’s hard not to remember.


	67. Distracting (Jesse/Lukas)

Jesse loved Lukas, really she did, but he made it hard to concentrate.

If he wasn’t so good looking, she’d have an easier time listening to what he was saying. Maybe.

The two of them were climbing an icy mountain, snow coming down thick and hard, and focus was key. Focus she didn’t have.

One wrong step and she’d fall, but at least then she wouldn’t have to worry about Lukas distracting her.

The wind was strong too, and that didn’t help. It made hearing Lukas harder as well as made him all the more eye-catching.

Jesse’s black hair whipped in the gusty weather and his blond, shorter hair did too.

He looked pale and slightly ruffled, blue eyes barely noticeable beneath the dark lenses of the goggles.

Notch, she just wanted to drag her nails down his back and tangle her fingers in his hair. He had no right to be so funny, smart, _and_ attractive.

The urge was worse than the one she’d had to steal Ivor’s potion, and that had ended horribly too.

She could wait. Would have to, really.

As soon as they got back inside, though, she knew exactly what they were going to do.


	68. Plan

There was no sugarcoating it; they weren’t in a good situation.

Ellegaard and Magnus were surrounded by zombies and creepers. It was not by choice that their trip into the desert had been delayed long enough for it to get dark out, but nevertheless it had.

They’d come out here to retrieve the pieces of an unfortunately failed invention. While it hadn’t turned out like she’d hoped, the parts would still be useful.

“Magnus?” Ellegaard asked as the griefer quickly put down the TNT and did- _something_ to the pistons and slime blocks beneath them. What was he doing?

“I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan.” He lit the TNT with a manic grin. “Hold tight!”

“Magnus, are you insan-” Ellegaard was cut off by the TNT exploding.

They soared through the air, Magnus roaring with laughter the whole way.

There was a pool of water beneath them now, and they seemed to be descending, but if they missed by even a block…

Oh, she was going to kill him for this.

If this stupid plan didn’t kill them first, that was.


	69. Missed  (Ivor/Soren)

Ivor laid awake, eyes that he knew were bloodshot staring up at the dirt ceiling of his small shelter. His home, now.

He would never truly admit it, but…

He missed them.

He missed them more than they would ever miss him.

Ivor found himself missing the sounds and smells of the temple, things he never thought he would, the guarantee that Magnus would wake them all up at some ungodly hour of the morning, undoubtedly with some explosives, the knowledge that he would wake up with someone’s arms around him, the incessant flirting and small morning kisses from Soren.

He would never get those things back.

There were also doubts about what they were doing now, the trouble they were getting into.

Gabriel and Magnus were already daring each other to do idiotic things before they became “heroes”. What if they did even worse to themselves now, their egos likely inflated, without him there to patch them back up?

Ellegaard could easily injure herself again while working on one of her contraptions, Soren by some building accident, and any of them could become ill.

None of them could make a proper healing potion.

It was almost enough to get him to rush out of bed, until he remembered, oh that’s right, it was the middle of the night and he was hours away. He had walked as far as he could before it had gotten dark.

They turned on him and would only send him away if he showed up, which he wouldn’t.

If he returned, then he would have to abide by the lie, and it was too late to go back. They could have their false recognition.

If they got themselves killed, there was nothing he would be able to do.

Ivor never did get to sleep.


	70. Argument

Even when he was trying to help, Soren couldn’t let him be without a lecture.

He knew very well this was his fault. That the monster was his creation. There was no need for Soren to hammer it in repeatedly, as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a million times already.

"Just shut up and listen to me!” Soren was taken aback for a second before he leaned forward and started speaking again.

“The last time I listened to you-” He could’ve laughed.

“Was there a last time? I must have missed it.”

“Ha! As if you cared enough to pay attention.” Ivor wondered why he was even bothering at this point. It was like talking to a cobblestone wall that had its head in the sand.

They were interrupted by Jesse, who it turned out had been given the amulet. A plan was finally made, as rash as it was, and soon they were off to get the others.

Maybe Ivor should have found it funny that Jesse, a complete stranger, was more willing to trust him than Soren.

Maybe he should’ve found Magnus’s attempt at intimidation amusing.

He didn’t.

He wasn’t really surprised by it at all.


	71. Defeat

They have a plan, there is action, the Witherstorm will be attacked.

This is all Ivor can gather from where he is hidden. However, it is enough.

He has never actually seen the Formidi-Bomb in action, though he’d heard plenty about it, and Ivor doesn’t know if it could truly destroy the command block. But he has hope.

It’s more than he’s had in a long time.

He watches as his old friends build odd distractions for the creature, and his hands itch to help them.

He stays put.

Indeed, the storm goes down after the explosion, and the hope grows.

It gets even bigger as a crowd of people, all weak but alive, trudges forth as one from the remains. They moan like the dead but they appear fine, human and alright.

They were alive.

All these people hadn’t died yet, weren’t killed because of him.

Not that such a victory comes free; it never does.

Ivor recognizes the old outfit Magnus had on underneath his armor, even if it is bloodied now, remembers how the griefer had been wearing it when they’d first met.

Ivor had thought he’d looked more like a performer than an adventurer then.

He can’t make out the words, all he knows is Magnus is unnaturally quiet and that the familiar raspy voice is barely audible.

He sees tears in Ellegaard’s eyes, Gabriel standing by her with his head bowed, and he sees the way Soren looks up and shakes his head.

There is no mistaking what’s happened. He knows it’s because of him.

There is nothing more that he would like to do than go over and comfort them, share their grief, but if he does he knows he’ll more likely be stabbed than greeted.

If he were able to save Magnus, however…

Ivor has a weak healing potion on his person, but if it’ll work or not he doesn’t know.

He’s willing to try. He _has_ to try.

He brings out the potion and runs, ready to turn as soon as he finishes, ready to retreat and probably never show his face again. His attempt at revealing a lie has turned far worse than he could’ve imagined, and solitude will presumably be best.

Saving Magnus is the least he can do.

The ground shakes and he stops, fear returning and holding him by the throat.

The Witherstorm rises, three times more than the one there had been, because of course it was too good to be true.

They shriek and groan, and people are picked back up once more.

A certain body goes missing amongst the chaos.

Ivor runs as quickly as he can, mind shouting “no” as he does. He hides carefully behind shrubbery and rubble, as he has gotten so good at doing over the years.

And that’s when he knows he has to reveal himself. They have to defeat this monstrosity once and for all, before any of the others die.


	72. Taxing

Gabriel sat next to Ellegaard as they waited for day to approach, everyone else busy with their own conversations.

"I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.” His friend remained silent and Gabriel frowned. “Ellegaard, I apologize. That was made in poor taste, joke or not.”

“It’s fine Gabriel. It’s not your fault he’s so infuriating.” She sighed and shook her head with a bittersweet smile. “Same old Magnus.”

Gabriel had been there for the messy separation, not that he knew their reason.

They never seemed to need a reason to fight, even back when the five of them-

The _four_ of them had made up the order.

It hadn’t been painless, even if quick, and Gabriel doubted the two had seen each other since, if their reactions were anything to go by.

“You can’t tell me nothing’s wrong.” Gabriel tried not to wince as he shifted, the throbbing in his arm briefly becoming sharper.

“It means staying here, waiting for that thing to find us.” Ellegaard glared at Magnus, who was talking to Jesse. “It also means dealing with him for even longer.”

“Believe me, I know what you mean.” Magnus didn’t bother Gabriel, as he was still on very good terms with his old friend. The Witherstorm, however… “That creature- it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“We’re sitting targets here.” Gabriel nodded as he covered his mouth with his hand while he coughed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I believe I may have caught a slight cold.” Gabriel waited until the coughing fit ended to continue. “It wasn’t our choice to make. Jesse’s the leader of this group, and we must follow his decisions.”

“I know.” Ellegaard shuddered. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”


	73. Hug (Jesse/Lukas)

It was amazing, really, how many books Ivor had and how hard finding an enchanted, glowing book was. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it?

Potions bubbled and glowed from where they sat, and an eerie wind howled through the creaky wooden shelves. How frequently Ivor came by, Jesse didn’t know, but he didn’t think it was often.

His friends didn’t seem to be having any better luck, and his boyfriend-

Well…

When Jesse walked up to Lukas, he was seemingly engrossed by all the books.   _Seemingly_. Lukas ignored him as Jesse walked up, didn’t say anything as he stood right behind him.

Jesse quickly noticed other things, like the fact that Lukas was shaking and that his eyes were locked onto one cover and weren’t moving.

He was muttering to himself too, and it likely wasn’t about “77 Ways To Deal With a Pigman”.

“Come here, you need a hug.” Jesse opened his arms and smiled, jolting his boyfriend from wherever he had been back to reality. Lukas’s eyes were suddenly very wild and Jesse wondered how badly he must have spooked him.

“Jesse, no, really, I’m fine.” There was a smile, however small, on Lukas’s face. It was something.

“You don’t look it.” Jesse closed his arms around Lukas from behind, getting a chuckle out of him.

“Thanks.” The sarcasm was there, but it had no bite. They were like that more a second or two until Lukas turned and looked Jesse in the eye. “Jesse? Did I do the right thing? I mean, the guys, the other Ocelots… Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I came, I’m just worried about them.”

“Remember, you’re helping them by being here. You’re helping everyone this way.” Lukas nodded and broke the embrace, taking a few steps before going back to his search. Jesse smiled to himself before walking in the opposite direction, certain the book was around this area.

“Jesse?” He stopped. Lukas’s voice was so small then that Jesse barely heard it. “Thank you for the hug.”

“No problem, you needed it.” If he was honest, Lukas probably could have used a few more. They didn’t have enough time for that, though.

They had to find that book before it was too late.

Jesse had his own friend risking his neck out there, and every minute that went by that they didn’t have it meant more danger.


	74. Shatter (Jesse/Lukas)

“I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.” Lukas, ever the killjoy, was glaring at him, as he had pretty much the entire time.

Jesse didn’t know why he bothered to show up in the first place.

Lukas hadn’t bothered to help them against the Witherstorms. If he had, maybe Reuben wouldn’t be _dead_.

He tried not to scowl.

“Thanks. This is coming from the guy who’s never been happy, right?” Jesse grinned, showing his teeth. Lukas turned on his heel and left then, not that it felt like a victory.

When had it gone wrong?

Sure, when they’d started out, there had been a lot of head-butting between them. Jesse hadn’t exactly been a fan of Lukas coming along, but he didn’t want him to go and get killed either.

They’d had a fun rivalry going on, and it became more of a pastime than anything. Lukas was so easy to rile up, looked cute whenever he tried to be intimidating, and it didn’t take long for Jesse to be head-over-heels for the blond.

He’d loved the little games they played, loved Lukas. He’d thought he’d been rather obvious about that.

He’d thought there was a chance that Lukas had felt the same.

When push had come to shove, Lukas had proved it didn’t mean anywhere near as much to him, if it’d meant anything at all.

He’d gone back to his special team, and guess what?

Good riddance.

Jesse didn’t need Lukas to be happy.

He was happy with his friends, knowing they’d saved the world. They’d earned this, Lukas had missed his chance. He’d never been much help anyway, always freezing or trying to screw things up by taking charge, who needed him?

If he told himself that enough, eventually he’d believe it.


	75. Question (Aiden/Jesse)

“Tell me the truth.” Jesse spoke as they watched the sun sink below the tree tops. There was a light breeze that had been coming and going, currently picking up speed. “Do you love me?”

“Of course. As much as you love me.”

Ten years ago she wouldn’t have ever believed it if someone had told her she’d date Aiden. Ten years ago they hated each other, couldn’t walk by without tossing insults and glares.

It wasn’t ten years ago, though, not anymore.

They’d slowly become friends after the new order had been formed, after the Ocelots started pitching in and helping during adventures.

Feelings could change, same as people.

He’d saved her life as many times as she had his.

It wasn’t typical and it hadn’t happened fast, but somewhere along the line she’d fallen in love with him.

Similarly, Aiden had fallen in love with her.

Every day Jesse asked that question, and every day she got the same answer. He did the same thing too.

Maybe it would fade, one day they’d wake up and it wouldn’t work, it would change, but that day wasn’t today.

She smiled and leaned into her date as the moon rose.


	76. Rest (Ivor/Soren)

Soren could be very absentminded at the worst of times, especially when it concerned his own wellbeing.

It was frustratingly common for the builder to simply disregard all of his own needs for the sake of his builds and experiments.

Ivor was never going to be able to break Soren of that habit, he already knew that, but he was going to try.

He looked up the large structure, to where Soren was on top.

Even from here he could see the bags under the other man’s eyes.

“You look exhausted.” Soren chuckled from where he was and turned to face Ivor.

“I am.” His fatigue also showed in his voice, much more sluggish and lifeless than it usually was. Normally Soren would have chattered on and on about what he was constructing, but he had yet to offer a single word on the subject.

“Then why don’t you come to bed?” Tired as he was, Ivor couldn’t help but appreciate the giant building.

Soren was incredibly creative. He saw inspiration in the smallest of things and could build gargantuan structures based off them alone.

“Sorry Ivor, I’d love too, but I’m almost done here and I’d like to finish it before I head to bed.” Soren turned and continued to place the netherbrick and quartz.

Stubborn too. Couldn’t forget stubborn.

Soren had been “almost done” for the past five hours now.

Enough was enough.

It bothered him beyond belief, but there was no sense in trying to argue with Soren when he got to this point.

Ivor trudged to his bed and fell asleep within mere seconds.

It was hours later when he was awoken by icy fingertips holding onto him as he was wrapped up in someone else’s arms.

… A weak apology, perhaps, but he’d take it.


	77. Bicker

“You lied to me!” Jesse rolled his eyes and tightened his fists as Lukas got closer, the blond practically spitting and hissing venom.

“Like I’m the first one to do it. It’s not like you’ve ever lied to anyone, right Lukas?” Lukas narrowed his eyes.

“Not about one of my best friends _dying_ , no!” His voice got louder, and nearby birds squawked as they flew out of their nests.

“She’s not dying. Not yet.” Petra had fainted earlier. She’d given all of them heart attacks, and made Lukas furious.

There was a reason Jesse hadn’t told him, not that he could give it to Lukas.

It was that Lukas would simply blame himself. He was already, Jesse could see it written clear as day on his face.

Jesse wished he could use the excuse that he hadn’t told anyone else, but he couldn’t and they both knew it.

Both of his best friends had reacted to Petra’s sickness worsening as if they’d already known all about it, and they had.

Axel and Olivia wouldn’t blame themselves for Petra’s illness.

… Jesse would’ve told Lukas, honestly, if he hadn’t been so prickly and angry. When he’d talked to him, Lukas had made it very clear that he didn’t think they could do anything against the storm. It could have tipped him over the edge if he’d found out that Petra was sick, and, as much as it hurt to think, likely dying.

Neither of them had slept in days. They’d been at each other’s throats lately, anything said or done would only aggravate the both of them.

To put it simply, things hadn’t been so great between his boyfriend and him, and Jesse wasn’t going to wreck it further if he could help it.

It was much easier to walk away.


	78. Collapse

Lukas poked around, trying not to let the fear come back. Jesse had been grieving; she probably was just busy talking to someone now, or helping check for any survivors still in need of help. There were so many things she could’ve been doing, and she’d saved the world. Who wouldn’t want to be with her? With all these people around, it wouldn’t be hard to disappear, even by accident.

Because, even with Reuben dead, it felt like there was another shoe waiting to drop.

Maybe he was getting jaded and that was it, he’d been fooled into thinking it was all over and okay too many times. Magnus had died last time too, and had it ended there?

Of course not.

All the worry was drained out of Lukas when he finally found her, curled up and sleeping against the side of the hill- or was it a mesa? They didn’t have those back home.

Lukas carefully brushed her hair out of her face, and took in how peaceful she looked.

There were tearstains on her face, but she was breathing calmly now.

There were plenty of bruises and cuts on her skin, but it wasn’t any worse than what the rest of them had.

They were so lucky Jesse’d landed in the water. If she hadn’t-

He shook his head.

All that mattered was that she had, and was alive.

Lukas took off his jacket and draped it across her like a blanket. Poor man’s substitute it may have been, but it was all they had.

He sat down next to Jesse and, as time passed and everyone tried to figure things out, their other friends did too.

She’d have to be woken up for the long trek back, but if anyone needed to rest, it was Jesse.


	79. Thief (Jesse/Petra)

The wooden stairs creaked as Petra trudged downstairs, eyes virtually shut. A bird outside finished its quiet song and bright morning light poured in through the windows.

She hadn’t made it to bed until late last night, having spent the majority of yesterday mining, and her partner had been teeming with energy.

A bitter draft blew through the house, easily making it through the thin fabric of the light grey shirt Petra wore. Maybe her jacket would’ve protected her from it, but she’d left it upstairs.

When she entered the kitchen, it was already abuzz, with a very pleased Jesse in the middle of it at the table.

Petra brushed aside her hair and kissed Jesse on the cheek as she sat down with a mug of steaming coffee.

Everything seemed to freeze as she realized what Jesse was wearing. That was not her usual red and white shirt.

On her girlfriend was, instead, a familiar blue shirt.

One that looked exactly like the one Petra was missing.

Here she’d gone and thought she’d misplaced it.

“Is there a special reason you’re wearing my shirt?” It was slightly too big on Jesse, not that she seemed to mind.

“Because it’s comfy?” Jesse shrugged, smiling. She was completely nonchalant; acting like this was what happened every day.

They were _not_ making a habit out of this.

“Jesse.” Petra gently placed her hand down on the table as she leaned over it. She frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Give it back.”

“Hmmm…” Jesse grinned as she got out of her seat. “I don’t think so.”

“Jesse!” The raven bolted in a fit of laughter.

“Have to catch me first!” Petra gave a mock growl as she leaped after the other woman, already knowing she was faster than Jesse.

Jesse knew it too.


	80. Trouble

Soren’s head snapped up as there was a booming explosion. He hastily grasped a nearby tree, his fingers digging into the soft, gnarled bark, as the ground shook and rumbled, small pebbles flying from the dirt as the rocks beneath him groaned and moved.

The order had been exploring today, solely out for a small mining trip to get more supplies and figure out more about the landscape.

They had split up around noon so they could cover more ground, agreeing to all return to the same spot at sunset when they would then return to the temple.

Soren himself had run into a creeper's nest, and when he'd managed to get out of the tunnel the sun was beginning to set. He'd broken an arm, his other arm and one of his legs were bleeding heavily, and the exit he had managed to find was not the same as the entrance he'd entered. Only one of his friends had answered his calls.

Magnus, it turned out, had ended up in a similar position, except that the TNT expert had broken one leg and sprained another, and his abdomen was bleeding.

Magnus had been ambushed by zombies, apparently.

Neither of them recognized the surrounding area. It wasn’t quite swamplands, but it certainly was not near any mountains or fields. Magnus didn't have a map, and Soren's own was now in shreds. Out of the two of them, Soren had been the more mobile one, and he had been out searching for their friends. Or a landmark. _Something_ he could recognize would be nice.

The moon and stars were out now, and all he had was his pickaxe and armor. As well as someone setting off enormous eruptions in the darkness.

Soren clutched his other arm as he started running, the boisterous laughter that now filled the air getting louder with each step.

He had left Magnus in charge of starting a fire.

The faster Soren ran, the brighter it got.

When he reached their little makeshift camp, there was an inferno as large as a house roaring away.

Soren stood stock still for a moment, mouth agape, before turning to look at the very pleased griefer.

"I did what you asked. Not good enough?" Magnus leaned back, his hands behind his head. His injured legs were sprawled lazily on the ground. "Some logs, a little TNT, and there you have it."

“Small fire! I said set a small fire! This isn’t small!” Soren looked back up at the crackling and crunching blaze, orange flames licking at the inky blackness that was the sky. He could feel the heat from where he stood, felt it penetrate his armor.

He had no doubt Magnus had gathered more than a little firewood, and with as many dead trees as there were simply lying around, both large and small, it probably wouldn’t be hard to collect, injured legs or not.

This was what happened when Soren was gone for a few short minutes. Naturally.


	81. Infatuation (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas had been asked to help reconstruct the town, and he was more than willing to pitch in. His job, currently, was to rebuild the tower that stood in the middle of the village.

Originally, it had been a lookout post, but the most anyone used it for now was stargazing. It was kind of amazing there was enough demand for them to need to restore it, but there you go. It was the little things that mattered.

All he had to do now was craft the smelted supplies into blocks and he could start building. Lukas reached for the iron ingots-

That weren’t there. That was odd.

“Missing something?” There were little taps as fingers were rhythmically drummed on a crate. Lukas tensed, his fingers digging into his palms.

He tried not to groan as he heard who it was, looking up only confirming his suspicion.

Lukas liked most of the members of the new order. Petra’d been friends with him from the start, always willing to help and always knowing what to do and where to go. Olivia was very smart, ready at all times to lend an ear, and when she spoke she knew what she was talking about.

Heck, he got along better with Axel. They had an understanding and were slowly entering friend territory.

Their leader, on the other hand…

There was a reason Lukas himself wasn’t one of their teammates.

“Jesse, I need those. Give them back.” Pale lips twisted and turned into a lopsided smirk.

“Come over here and make me.” Jesse leaned over the crate and raised an eyebrow, the stolen chunks resting in his hand.

“Jesse!” A second eyebrow arched over a green eye that promised nothing but trouble. Lukas sighed and crossed his arms. “Please.”

“Give me a minute.” Jesse waited for a moment, holding the metal further away from Lukas with a hand as he put the other one under his chin to keep it propped up. He shook his tilted head as he shrugged at the blond, slightly curly hair bouncing a bit. “Nope, not feeling it.”

“Seriously?” Lukas was honestly considering tackling Jesse to get it back. The other man was faster, but he wasn’t as strong and Lukas could hang him by his suspender straps if that was what it took.

“Maybe if you say it one more time.” Jesse tossed the bars from hand to hand. “Your choice. Lovely iron you’ve got here, though, be a shame to lose it.”

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

“Please, Jesse?” Not getting the argument he wanted must’ve been enough to make him grow bored. With a sigh he nodded, holding his hand out to Lukas.

 “Bit weak, but I suppose that’ll do.”

“Maniac.” Lukas quickly grabbed the materials, hands curling around the stack, before Jesse could snatch it away again. “You’re insane!”

“You know it.”  Jesse gave a toothy grin while he straightened up.

The brunette walked away and quietly closed the door, leaving Lukas there staring. He really had no idea what to say to that.

Why did Jesse always have to get the last word?

By all rights, he should’ve hated Jesse. Half the time he was sure he did.

Then the other half Lukas couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted to kiss the smug look off his face.

It was infuriating.

But which was it? Did he hate him or did he love him?

The answer seemed obvious, but it was hard to tell sometimes. And that scared Lukas, just a bit.

Maya was right. He needed to get a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, _someone_. This wasn’t healthy.


	82. Betrayal

Noiselessly Ivor cut his steak, the red juice slowly dripping out onto the pristine quartz plate. If he had wanted, he could’ve drunken fresh, rosy colored wine out of the crystalline cup beside the plate.

His friends were dining on similar meals, and the torches lit the giant room spectacularly.

It was a meal fit for kings, conquerors, heroes.

They always dined in this hall, but tonight was meant to be special. They rarely ate so extravagantly, and, for safety reasons, they all usually tried to keep Magnus away from the alcohol.

Not tonight.

By all rights, there should’ve been laughter, chattering, idiotic dares enhanced by drunken stupidity, _happiness_.

Tonight, the meat tasted dry and the wine bitter, though not through any fault of the actual food.

A meal fit for true heroes, which they were not.

Ellegaard, Magnus, Gabriel, they’d done their bit for the crowd. They had waved and smiled precisely like the heroes they had tried so hard to be.

They would have been actual heroes tonight if _someone_ hadn’t cheated.

He glared at the redhead, the same scene playing through his head repeatedly.

To be fair, Soren had been far more reserved during the celebration, but that didn’t change what he had done.

There was still time, before the rumors spread too far, to be honest and squash the lies.

“Ivor, please let it drop.” Soren was slow and quiet, the man looking at him not glaring back but simply staring. His eyes were half-lidded, his plate practically untouched.

If he hadn’t known exactly what Soren had done, Ivor may’ve taken pity on him and done just that.

“Soren, you can’t expect us to actually take any credit!” Everyone else was silent, and Ivor found himself the only one arguing against the architect. Soren himself had said very little.

“What’s done is done.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to lie. We could out there, right now, and tell the truth-” Ivor was cut off by Soren, the other man’s words no more than a whisper.

In the deathly hush that had overtaken the hall, they all heard him.

“If it bothers you so much, then maybe you should leave, Ivor.” They may as well have been shouted.

“Soren?”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Soren spoke slightly quicker, a strange sort of gleam in his eye. “And the others agree with me.”

It seemed like that was news to them.

“Really?” Certainly they wouldn’t agree with that. They could all see as well as he could how Soren was acting, what he was saying.

“Of course they do.” Soren’s voice gained an edge as he leaned closer. He turned to face the griefer sitting next to him. “Right, Magnus?”

Magnus grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the table.

“Sorry man.” And that was when Ivor’s confidence began to crumble.

No… No, surely not…

Soren nodded his head before asking again.

“Ellegaard?” The engineer likewise wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Ivor…” Her tone said it all.

This time Ivor turned to the only person who hadn’t answered yet.

“Gabriel?” Him, Soren, and Gabriel. They couldn’t toss it away like that. They wouldn’t-

“I-” Gabriel hesitated, before turning his head. “I’m sorry, Ivor.”

The only one looking at him now was Soren.

Ivor pushed his chair away and stood up, ignoring how weak his legs suddenly felt.

“Are you really taking his side against me?!” It was utterly unreal. This morning, he had been confident that, even if they failed, they would die together.  When they had hugged, perhaps for the last time, they had all promised that they would be there for each other. “After everything?”

“Goodbye Ivor.” Soren was also the only one who said anything.

Ivor was walking away not five minutes later, with his potion supplies and the treasures he had been so graciously given to keep the truth hidden in hand.

“Bribed with” more like.

The wind howled as the autumn moon shined through the thin wispy clouds that tried to cover it.

Wolves growled and barked in the distance, though they made no move to come near Ivor.

Fear could do a lot to a person.

It could make them learn from their mistakes, help them become more clever and sneakier.

Fear could drive rational people to uncontrollable anger.

It could make them paranoid, paranoid enough to destroy solid friendships and strong relationships.

Fear could consume a man who’d lost everything and had no idea what to do next.

Ivor looked back for a final time, though no one else was out there. They were all inside, basking in their triumph. They had no time for dissenters like him.

The temple looked incredibly beautiful, especially in the moonlight. Banners fluttered in the wind, the light from inside faint but still visible from this far away, giving it an almost otherworldly glow.

If he were asked, he could recite where every member normally would be at this time off the top of his head, what remedies worked best on who, the easiest way to get Gabriel and Magnus to shut up, stop making stupid dares in the middle of the night, and go to sleep.

It had been his home, their home, for the longest time. No longer.

He had thought…

That no matter what, they would all stand together.

He’d been wrong about that too.


	83. Horror (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas feels like he’s been plunged into artic water, as if winter itself is breathing heavily down his back, but he can’t bring himself to care.

His clothes are torn, the knees in his pants completely worn away, his jacket long gone. He hears the rumble and roar of thunder but sees no lightning.

There’s shrieking and screeching, the sounds not like that of any monster or animal or even human he’d ever met, and it keeps getting louder. There’s a thick fog making everything fuzzy. Dead trees lie everywhere, their twisting, rotted roots trying to ensnare him, the grime beneath a nearly toxic purple color.

Lukas thinks it’s night, but he can’t really tell. Time doesn’t have meaning here, wherever “here” is.

His feet keep getting stuck in the sludge, his limbs wearier and harder to move each time.

Every few seconds he hears the shouts of people he knows, but he can’t tell from what direction and they’re gone before he can figure anything out.

Lukas stops short when he notices something sitting on the soil, something that wasn’t there a second ago.

He freezes.

It’s a head.

It’s _Jesse’s_ head, bloody and severed, lying on the cold, coarse ground. Brown hair is hidden by a putrid blend of fresh blood and thick mud that is all Lukas can smell. His brown eyes, lifeless and unmoving, stare straight at him. They accuse him, ask him why he didn’t do more, why he couldn’t actually be useful, without any actual words being said. The unspoken truths hit him in waves until they’re all Lukas can hear.

The screaming fades and he can’t hear his own.

Lukas almost launches himself out of bed as he lurches awake, icy sweat dripping down his face. His drenched shirt clings to his back, sticks and moves with every one of his muscles, as he desperately takes in breath after shaky breath. The hot sheets of the bed are suffocating and burning him, the stuffy air making him choke.

Then the body beside him stirs and the growing panic is batted away.

“Lukas?” Jesse’s voice is slurred as he groggily sits up, but it’s fantastic to hear all the same. A second later Lukas is hugging Jesse, maybe a bit too firmly. “Lukas, what’s wrong?”

Jesse’s not dead, he’s alive, and Lukas repeats those words as he relaxes his grip slightly. Nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

“Nothing.” The word is rushed and somewhat stumbled over, Lukas knows Jesse doesn’t believe him, but that’s okay.

He can hear the crickets chirping outside, the breeze that make the trees sway and the reeds whistle blowing gently, the frogs croaking as they always do by the little river. There’s nothing destroying the world right now, nothing targeting him and his friends. For tonight, they’re safe and they’re alive.

Lukas’s going to keep hugging his boyfriend for a while. At least until Jesse falls back asleep, and the way the brunette is slumped over, that won’t be long.


	84. Disturbance (Ellegaard/Magnus)

There’s not much build up to the surprise entrance.

One moment everything’s quiet, Ivor and Gabriel both reading, a crisp page turning every minute or two, Soren leaning up against the potioneer and an arm intertwined with the warrior as a snore or two occasionally escapes him. The next, the doors open, slamming against the walls as they do, the familiar sounds of Ellegaard and Magnus bickering bouncing through the halls and up to where the other three are.

Soren jolts awake in time to see Magnus essentially being dragged by Ellegaard, smoke rising off of the both of them, glistening smudges of Restone on their skin and clothing.

The engineer rages in harsh grumbles as they walk, cutting herself off time and time again with huffs and half-uttered expletives.

Gabriel speaks up, noticing they are not unharmed.

“Why is he bleeding?” Magnus also has various cuts on him, blood oozing from behind his mask down his face. Ellegaard herself has a bloodied nose and a slice under her cheek, her face red.

Though perhaps that last part is more because of her anger than injury.

“Because he’s an idiot!” The engineer shouts back at them, another door banging as it’s shut not a second later.

The three of them share a look and return to their prior activities. Magnus has made his bed, and it’s his job to lie in it. To speak against, or even to, an irate Ellegaard without good cause is suicidal, and an experience none of them wish to go through.

Besides, as Ivor puts it while muttering under his breath, they’ll have no doubt made up before the hour’s end and will get right back to doing what they were before.

It’s not as if the two of them are exactly _quiet_ , or leave much to the imagination.


	85. Desert (Jesse/Petra)

Petra quickly raised her weapon, barely managing to deflect the blistering ball of fire. She licked her cracked, dry lips, wishing for nothing but some water. A bit of rain would solve most of their problems right now, she’d wager.

This had all started when people, both adventurers and villagers, had come to them asking for help, saying that they’d been overwhelmed by creatures that had come in the night.

Nothing new there, things would always attack in the dark. It was a law of nature, one everyone had to train to fight away.

What made it different was that the majority of attacks had been done by _Nether_ mobs. Innocent people were waking up to their houses being set alight, to attacks that left them infected with wither sickness. Notch knew the icing on the cake was when someone, and there was always someone, attacked a wandering Pigman by mistake.

It looked like every single being that could fit through a portal had.

When they had arrived, ready to help, they’d been ambushed.

An insane number of wither skeletons and blazes surrounded them, moving together. The approaching waves may as well have been armies, uniform in their attacks and every attack seemed almost strategized.

Whatever had happened, whatever was going on, it wasn’t an accident and these were no normal monsters.

The savanna grass, brittle and dry to begin with, made perfect tinder for the blazes’ fires, and every blast of theirs spread wildly within seconds. Smoke blocked out the sunlight, and Petra tried to blink out the scorching soot and ash that kept getting into her eyes. The surroundings were very bright; nonetheless, it was anything but clear. She could hardly see her own hand in front of her face, never mind the others.

Hearing wasn’t much better. There were explosions of all kinds, shaking her clean through until it was hard to tell which way was up. It was raining fire, and the ground refused to be still. There were so many noises that blended together, made by both human and not, that soon it sounded as if hell itself was bellowing.

If an earthquake struck, they wouldn’t ever know it. Maybe one already had.

As for smell, forget it. According to her nose, the world was made of embers.

Furiously Petra rubbed more of the ash out of her eyes -She’d kill to have goggles like Olivia and Lukas right now- when she heard faint words spoken by a very familiar voice above all the commotion.

She looked up to see Jesse atop one of the taller acacia trees, fighting against both a wither skeleton as well as a Pigman. She saw a blaze fire at her while her back was turned, tried to shout out but was too late.

She saw Jesse fall.

Petra lunged forward, barely managing to catch her. Petra’s knees buckled as they both felt the impact of the fall, their heavy armor only adding to the strain.

Jesse’s eyes were open, but they were unfocused. Blood trickled down the side of her mouth, oozing slowly down her pale cheek. Her breathing was slowing, her chest rising and falling more sporadically. Her black hair was covered in dust and sticky with sweat.

Petra found her voice, hoarse and rough.

 “No. Not you. Anyone but you.” Jesse wasn’t gone, not yet, but she was close. Her breathing was erratic, and her eyes were screwed shut as she curled in on herself.

Petra wanted to charge into the fight, strike all of them down where they stood, take as many as she could with her. Her blood pounded in her ears, red was creeping into the corners of her vision.

However, the smart thing was to turn back, to cut their losses while they could.

Petra looked back down as Jesse half sprung to life, twitching violently from where she was laying.

It was only going to get worse if they didn’t get help soon.

Jesse needed her.

Jesse, who was writhing and twisting, only halfway succeeding in biting back screams, her limbs flailing viciously, who clawed madly at the ground for her weapon.

Jesse, who not once stopped to think about herself, who always tried her hardest to help everyone she could, whether they deserved it or not, who loved Petra for whatever reason.

Petra slowly got back to her feet, one of Jesse’s arms slung around her shoulder. She started walking when a zombie stumbled into their path.

Petra raised her sword and plunged it into the monster, the blade disappearing into green, waxy skin as the demon shrieked.

Another fireball hit the ground next to them, nearly knocking them off their feet.

Petra grimaced as she yanked her weapon back out and readjusted her grip. Things were clearer this way; she could see the outlines and blurry shapes of figures now. One in particular was close, hazy and unstable, but there. It was a house, made of cobblestone.

It wasn’t much farther; a few yards at most.

Every second felt like an eternity, the heat insufferable.

Then they were moving faster, and walking became easier. Petra looked over, through her blood and grime covered bangs, and saw that a green person was also helping Jesse walk. Green and tall…

Axel. Axel was helping.

He was bleeding too, blood running down the side of his face from an injury hidden by his hair, his helmet missing. She could just make out a burn on his neck, red and splotchy.

He opened his mouth, moved it like he was talking, though Petra heard nothing. As they continued, half dragging their feet and half stumbling, one thing became obvious.

Axel was steering them away from the house, into the open. The open where they were more likely to be hit. Why weren’t they going to the house?

It would be safe, it was-

Petra tried not to reel back as she realized what she’d missed. Things were even easier to make sense of now, and she saw what exactly would’ve been the problem.

Made of cobblestone _and_ wood. Of course. All villager houses had wood. How could she have forgotten that? They’d have been trapped.

They may have been in the open, but they were still getting away from the swarm, were leaving the battlefield behind.

The three of them eventually got to shelter made completely of stone, and by then Petra could hear faint murmurs.

The walls were cold and the air was clear. It was nothing like the inferno outside the doors. Healers rushed back and forth and they were quickly noticed.

She and Jesse were wrapped up and tended to, but Axel slipped back outside before anyone could treat him.

Petra drank a single potion while Jesse was given many. They were given water, and Petra had never appreciated the cold, sweet liquid more.

Petra tried to stay awake as she sat by Jesse’s bedside, the other woman almost entirely wrapped in bandages, but she found that she couldn’t. She needed to stay awake at the very least, definitely wanted to go back out and find Lukas, Olivia, Axel-

Something else had been in the potion.

Petra, against her better judgement, closed her eyes.


	86. Trust

Olivia’s heart was fit to ram through her chest, run across the world, and then burst from atop the highest mountain. The campfire she’d asked Axel to light could’ve enveloped an entire cow and no one would notice. They were lucky there was no roof to this treehouse, otherwise they would all probably have ended up sleeping on the dirt.

She took in a deep breath and bit by bit let go of her hair, slowly returning her hands to her sides. Axel wasn’t so reckless that he’d actually endanger any of them on purpose. If they had built the treehouse with a roof, he certainly wouldn’t have made a fire that may as well have come from the Nether itself.

That didn’t change the fact that he was still reckless enough to build one with flames as large as horses. Olivia turned to him and saw the smile on his face, his arms crossed.

She took in another long breath before gently gesturing to the disaster, ready to calmly talk this out.

“Small fire! I said set a small fire! This isn’t small!” It might’ve come out slightly less steady than she’d meant for it to. Axel raised his hands in front of him, his smile bigger.

“Relax, Olivia, live a little. It’s fine!” He thrust a thumb back behind him. “See?”

Jesse, Lukas, and Petra were all sitting against the wall as well as leaning on each other, Reuben sitting underneath Jesse’s propped up legs. Jesse himself was absentmindedly scratching behind the pig’s ear as he laughed at some joke Lukas had told. Petra rolled her eyes and said something quietly, getting a hoot out of Lukas and a punch on the arm from Jesse that didn’t make her pause.

Olivia looked over the edge, down at the ground. The torches they had placed earlier were smoldering, once strong lights having been blinked out by the wind.

The wind that was getting sharper and louder every second, trying to freeze them clear through. The glowing blaze in the middle, chomping away slowly at the firewood, beat it back and kept them warm. Looking at it again, it wasn’t really much larger than Axel himself.

If it was smaller it likely would’ve been blown out. Olivia could feel her resolve chipping away, ready to topple down completely.

“Well… Alright. If you’re sure it’s safe?” His brow rose at the question, forehead creased and jaw tensing.

“Wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t.” The next second he was giving her a toothy grin.

She remembered very well all the times his harmless pranks had accidentally gotten out of hand. Axel tended to be careful, but there was only so careful he seemed to be able to be. It took more to ruffle and hurt him than it did almost any of them.

Olivia looked back up at him and at his grin, closed now but just as big.

It wasn’t quite detonating TNT, but Axel rarely turned down the chance to light a fire. This didn’t end with something or someone getting blown up either.

There wasn’t any real issue, was there?

They joined the others, and the rest of the night was spent with teasing and laughter. Eventually they ended up in a massive, tangled up pile, but it was comfortable and no one moved to leave or push anyone away.

If Olivia kept an extra close eye on the fire the whole time, well, that was nobody’s business but her own.

To be fair, when she fell asleep it was with a smile on her face and a body safely protected from the biting cold.


	87. Heat (Jesse/Lukas)

There were good and bad sides to everything, and that included summer days.

Everybody remembered the warm, sunny times, accompanied by cool breezes and the sound of laughter almost everywhere you went. They talked about the fun tricks you could do, the crazy stuff their friends would undoubtedly be dragged into, the wild parties that were always unfailingly thrown this time of year.

No one ever seemed to mention the muggy days, though, when everything was so humid and smothering that all a person could do was try to desperately drag themselves to a body of water before they were suffocated. The times when everything started to feel like the Nether.

Today was one of those days.

Lukas was sitting with his back up against the wall, wearing a thin tank top and some frayed shorts. His jacket was nowhere to be seen.

The black leather would’ve _killed_ him in this heat.

Even now, his back was sticking to the wood, every movement, no matter how slight, making it stretch and pull until it detached and immediately clung to a new spot on the wall again.

The weather had been so dry lately, and then last night had thrown a curveball, where a monsoon had decided to hit and hadn’t stopped until the early hours of the morning.

This was the result of the toxic combo.

Lukas wiped the gathering sweat from his forehead and let his hand fall to the floor.

Jesse moaned from where he was sitting up next to the blond, close but not close enough for the two to touch or share body heat.

That was the last thing they needed.

The brunette was also wearing the lightest clothing he owned, his shirt covered in bright paint stains from an incident Lukas had been lucky enough to miss.

The nearby lake had dried up during the drought, but it no doubt was filled now. Everything was so waterlogged today that they may as well have been living on swampland.

The distance to the water was too far. Walking to the door would be challenge, never mind going out into the harsh sunlight for a pond that he remembered as empty. Sure, it was supposed to be filled, but the last time Lukas had seen it, the dirt bottom had had dusty, twisting cracks that seemed to reach all the ways to bedrock. Forget it.

Of course going nude wasn’t an option.

Of course…

Lukas shook his head. The stuffy weather was doing strange things to his brain.

Peeling off the sticky clothes would require more energy than he had anyhow.

They probably would’ve been off adventuring somewhere else today, but…

Well, they weren’t likely going to see any of their friends today.

Petra was mining, probably nice and cool as she explored one of the many, many tunnels beneath the order’s old temple.

Axel was off in Boom Town, a place known for almost never getting rain.

The other Ocelots were all camping in the snowy mountains, the idea Aiden’s and Maya and Gill claiming they were going along to keep him from getting himself killed. Lukas had been invited, but he’d declined to spend some time with his boyfriend.

He was realizing he may have made the wrong choice.

The only one in town was Olivia, and Notch knew what she was doing.

Lukas looked up as Jesse leaned into him, his head on his shoulder.

“Jesse you’re going to have to move.” The other man stayed still. Lukas nudged him, albeit halfheartedly. “Jess, please.”

“Gravity’s too strong, Luke. Can’t move.” At least someone was having fun. Lukas tried to push Jesse off, but gave up quickly and slowly began to slide down the wall to the ground. It wasn’t worth it.

Someone knocked on the door and they both raised their heads.

“Yes?” Jesse called, “gravity” apparently not affecting his vocal cords.

“Can I come in?” That was Olivia. Lukas and Jesse shared a look. They tried to sit up straighter, attention on the entry.

“Sure.” The door swung open.

Her skin was coated with sweat and her normally curly hair was limp, her goggles were nowhere to be seen, and she wasn’t wearing her vest, but she was smiling. And dragging something behind her on a wheeled platform, which barely fit through the entrance, something covered by a white sheet.

“Well, the weather’s awful, and I thought now was as good a time as any to show you guys this.” Lukas stared at the woman.

“How in the world are you so…” Perky? Refreshed? Not-dead? Olivia had pulled that thing from her house to theirs in this stifling weather and was still standing.

“It’s because of this. I finished it this morning and tested it out.” Olivia pulled off the sheet, revealing some sort of large, bladed machine. She flipped a lever and the Redstone on it lit up, followed by the fins moving. They gained speed until they produced- _Air_. Warm at first, but it was getting cooler by the second. “So, what do you think?”

It took them both a minute to close their mouths.

Lukas turned to Jesse, eyes wide.

“You have one of the best friends in the world. She’s a genius.” He could already feel the effects of the invention, the balmy atmosphere gone. “We’re keeping her.”

“I saw her first.” Jesse muttered as he grinned, wet hair moving wildly in the wind. Olivia rolled her eyes, smiling as she sat down next to them.

“You’re welcome.”


	88. Trek

Gabriel ran forward, stabbing a dark limb that was trying to wrap itself around another person’s waist with as much might as he could muster.

They rushed away as soon as they were dropped, but they were grabbed by a beam before they could get anywhere.

It was a losing battle, he couldn’t protect anyone long enough to get them to safety.

A mess of black hair rushed by.

Ivor.

Gabriel stopped short and turned, searching wildly for the enchanter.

He was no longer amongst the chaos, no doubt having already ducked into the portal-

Ice ran through his veins.

The portal that laid in pieces on the ground, the corrupted Wither’s wretched tentacles still clutching onto pieces of obsidian.

The monster’s efforts became more concentrated and Gabriel fled, no other survivors to be found.

Jesse and his friends had gotten through, knocked through though a few of them may have been. The Nether was dangerous, especially to those new to it, but they seemed to be able to take care of themselves. He had the amulet and the tracks wouldn’t be hard to find; they would be able to find the temple as well as Magnus and Ellegaard.

Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen either of them.

He had hoped that Ivor had moved on, had gotten past what had happened with the order.

There had never been a doubt in Gabriel’s mind that his old friend would continue to be hurt and angry about it, as he had complete right to be, but to be so bitter as to chance the lives of complete innocents simply to get revenge for something that had happened years ago?

Because of Ivor’s folly, all of Minecraftia was at risk.

And because of Gabriel’s frailty, his weakness, all of these people would die.

They had looked up to him, had trusted him to save them. When he had been counted upon he had failed.

Gabriel looked back at the monstrosity as it continued to strip the flaming field to bedrock, the human screams ending as no more were picked up. There was simply no one left for the fiend to abduct in the area.

He saw no one around either. It seemed as if everyone truly had been snatched.

Ivor had certainly driven his point home. If Gabriel had been a real warrior, as he claimed, the abomination would be dead. If they were what they said, there would have been no command block for Ivor to wield.

They never would’ve separated in the first place.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the approaching colossal storm of a being.

Gabriel set his shoulders and began to run again, his breath not quite back but simply no time left to regain it.

The moon crawled across the sky as shouts continued to echo inside his head. People who weren’t there begged him for help, but slowly their cries became indignant roars, yelling at him for betrayal and lies.

It was after the grassy plains became thick and covered jungle, the caws and growls of wildlife and running water blocking out the voices, that he slowed.

It began to rain a while later, the cold drops running from leaf to leaf until they hit the verdant ground.

Gabriel ignored the straining and soreness of his joints, the unremitting burning of his lungs.

Yet more things to remind him of how far he’d fallen.

While he still trained, it was nothing compared to what he had done while with the rest of the order. His moves were far rustier and both the fighting and the running seemed to take more of a toll on him. His slacking had come back to bite him.

The jungle eventually thinned, and it was back to sloping dirt and rolling mounds.

It was when Gabriel ventured over the last hill that the sun began to rise, bathing the temple in an array of colors that shimmered and gently reflected off the windows and walls. It had been too long since the last time he had been here.

Entire parts seemed demolished and new portions had been made. Had other people managed to find it?

He tried to stifle his growing hope.

There was only one way to find out.


	89. Dares

Gabriel and Magnus scoured the top of the hill for plants, having been asked by Ivor to find some ingredients while he attended a potion.

Normally Ivor would gather them himself, knowing what to look for and where, but this concoction apparently needed constant attention or it would spoil.

It didn’t surprise Gabriel that Ivor wouldn’t let one of them tend to it while he left.

The fur incident from last time was fresh in his mind, as it no doubt was in Ivor’s.

However, it wasn’t exactly the most thrilling task, and so they had to spice it up.

The dares escalated from simple things such as crossing the river by hopping on one foot to who could ride up the hill while atop livestock, steering them with only their feet.

(For the record, they both could, though Magnus had almost been bucked from his sheep and Gabriel had nearly run his pig into a tree.)

Now here, they had decided to take a break from the challenges to get what they came for.

It was a large hill, not quite a mountain, with a stunning view.

The waterfall spanned for almost a mile and the water fell for possibly even greater a distance, light gleaming off of it as it flowed. It was magnificent in all aspects, which alone earned it acknowledgment, and from this angle Gabriel could see the mushrooms that seemed to cover the cave floor behind it. They were different from the ones that grew in the forest, spotted and larger.

“We could get those, if we jumped there first.” He pointed to a lower platform, closer to the waterfall.

“Yeah right. You’re more likely to break your neck.” Gabriel turned to Magnus, raising his eyebrows. That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one.

“Did you just dare me?” The magic word had been spoken. Magnus’s eyes lit up and he grinned.

“Sounds more like I’m calling your bluff. You can’t do that and we both know it.”

“Very well.” Gabriel got a running jump, ingredient bag in hand.

He almost slipped off the pillar, the top of it covered in moss that made it hard to stay steady, but he managed to make it. The second jump was easier, if no less slick.

Gabriel turned to Magnus, who wasn’t quite quick enough in hiding his shock.

“Well, come on over.” He called, gesturing with his hand to the cave in case the rushing water thundered over his voice.

“Hah, no sweat. If you can do it, I can.” The rogue almost fell too, but he made it.

The trials didn’t end there.

“I can collect more than you can.” Magnus taunted, his container already halfway full. Gabriel’s rate of gathering increased immediately.

“You can try.” They picked and plucked at a swift rate, until nothing was left. In the end, their bags were similarly filled.

“You have to return with them intact for it to count.” Gabriel reminded him with a grin, content with their end results.

“Yeah, yeah.” Magnus waved him off as he prepared to make the leap.

However, his foot slipped before he fully jumped, and it was with a yelp that Magnus fell. Gabriel dropped the satchel as he ran to the edge, relieved to find that Magnus was clinging to the side, a single hand gripping a smooth foothold all that was keeping him from falling.

“Hold on!” Gabriel bent over and reached for his hand, slightly out of reach. The water would not cushion the blow. On the contrary, the rocks at the bottom were enormous and jagged.

“Wasn’t planning on letting go!” Gabriel managed to grab ahold of Magnus’s hand, but in the process his feet slipped on the wet rock, and they both fell into the water.

* * *

 

The rocks were not forgiving, nor was the river.

They were unceremoniously washed ashore, the river having slowed to the point where it seemed to find it fit to toss them aside. Bones had been broken and ankles twisted.

They looked at each other, scrapes on Gabriel’s face and blood gradually dripping from Magnus’s nose, staining the yellow silt red as it fell.

They stared for a moment or two more.

“Nice face.” Magnus nudged him, smirking.

“I must say, your nose is looking much better.” Gabriel softly bumped his shoulder into Magnus’s.

Magnus began to shake, each snicker louder than the last.

Gabriel’s chuckles soon dissolved into deep throated laughter.

The two of them roared with glee, long and hard.

Perhaps there was simply something funny about how they had survived after such a tumble, or how they were now injured because of mushrooms.

Perhaps it was the joy of still being alive.

It eventually died and the two of them let their heads fall back to the sand.

“Tie?”

“Tie.”

* * *

 

They returned to the temple, leaning on each other for support as they did, with less than half of the materials they had originally had in tow.

Ivor himself was less than pleased.

“How in the world did you manage to do this to yourselves? You were getting potion supplies!”

“You’re welcome.” Magnus’s head received a fast smack via Ivor’s potions book.


	90. Tongue-Tied (Olivia/Axel)

“I’m going to tell her.” Axel smiled at the large mirror fixed to the wall, reflection showing how crooked the toothy grin was. “I’m really gonna tell her.”

He kept saying that. Had been for the past few weeks, not that anything ever happened.

It wasn’t that Axel didn’t want to, of course he did. If Olivia returned the feelings, great, if not, then that was that. It wasn’t like it would change them being best friends, they were both better than that.

But stuff happened and it’d get pushed off. She was busy, he’d get sidetracked, something’d come up, someone needed help.

Not this time. He was going to go out there and tell her, right now.

There was a somewhat muffled shout from the other side of the door.

“Axel, come on, we’ve got company!” Jesse’s tone made it clear that this wasn’t the sit down and chat type either.

Who was Axel trying to kid?

He was better off leaving things the way they were and keeping his trap shut.

He dragged his hand down his face with a groan before more or less slamming the helmet back on and running out.

“Coming!” Turning the corner, he saw the swarm of zombies and creepers.

At least they wouldn’t be bored.


	91. Guilty

Jesse entered her room, slowly and more shuffling than walking, but laughing. She called various goodnights to her friends as she shut the door.

She didn’t bother to turn on the lamp or light any of the torches.

The laughs became chuckles, then giggles, sharp and fast.

The armor stand in the corner was whacked and battered, shaking with each and every blow, until it was left wobbling.

Her sword cut quickly through the woolen mattress of her bed and was left sticking straight up, blade stuck in smooth, sturdy wood.

Jesse stood there, shaking. Her hands were curled up into fists, knuckles sheet white and sharp nails cutting into her palms. She took in short, sharp breaths that stabbed her lungs like daggers, head down and blood pounding, hair dangling in her face.

She hadn’t earned this, she didn’t deserve it. Because of her, Magnus was dead. Because of her, Reuben was dead. Because of her not being fast or good enough, so many people had lost their homes, were trying to recover.

So many people who didn’t realize that she was the cause of all the grief they were trying to walk off.

They looked at her and saw a hero. Jesse looked and saw a murderer.

She had taken that stupid potion. She hadn’t known, she and Axel were only goofing off, how could that little mixture have been the key to destroying the Witherstorm?

Everything had been her fault. If she’d been smarter this wouldn’t have happened. Ivor would have had his big presentation, exposed the entire order, and they all would’ve walked away alive.

They were heroes now. At what cost?

Jesse shut her eyes, her fingers twisting and tangling with her hair as they dug into her scalp.

The swaying of the wooden frame finally stopped.

She’d abused it. Why had she done that? She’d been polishing it every day, rubbing away at the dirt and grime until her hands ached. It would take hours at a time, muck refusing to budge.

And now she’d gone and mistreated it as if it were nothing more than leather.

Black blood shined in the moonlight, gradually dribbling down the green chest plate and leggings. They had been hunting zombies that night, had chased them away from a nearby village.

Hot tears ran down her face as she turned her head away. Jesse wrapped her arms over her head as she curled up as tightly as she could, back to the door.

The armor… She’d kept it, declined the tougher sets. It didn’t feel right to throw it aside, not after how much it had costed.

And if she had died after destroying the command block because it couldn’t defend her well enough, that was fitting. She didn’t warrant staying alive when much better people were already dead, when all of her friends could die any second because of her.

She wanted to tell someone, anyone, get it off her chest before it drove her insane. She never would.

What was the point in telling anyone? It was way too late to change anything. Her friends…

They were all so happy now. She’d do everything to keep it that way.

What the order had done, what Soren had done, made a lot more sense now.

Maybe it was an unspoken requirement for the leader of the order. That they had to be lousy cowards, liars that made themselves sound better than they were.

But her friends were happy.

No one else could ever know the truth.

Every day, Jesse beamed, nodded her head, did everything she was supposed to. They didn’t need to worry; they all wanted her to be happy. If they thought she was happy, then they were happy. It was the least she could do.

Eventually night became day.

Jesse stood up, tearstains long faded, eyes nice and clear instead of bloodshot and red, some bags under her eyes, her smile a bit too strained, but she was a little tired. Nothing to worry about. Didn’t get the best night’s sleep, was having too much fun training. Too much energy.

She yanked her sword from the bed and grinned widely.

Because everything was alright. Why wouldn’t it be?


	92. Creativity

Magnus and Gabriel were partaking in a prank war, and had somehow managed to get Ivor involved in the mess.

According to the potioneer, he was giving them a taste of their own medicine.

Soren had been there when the TNT trap had gone off and had nearly destroyed half of Ivor’s lab. He almost felt pity for the other two.

Since the other three were all busy with their own… Issues, Ellegaard and Soren were free to compare and contrast designs and concepts with each other in a quieter, more relaxed environment.

The temple basement was well lit and fortified, though there were no windows. They couldn’t feel the unquestionably close explosions, and could barely hear them. There were no diversions in the vast room, save for the distraction that was the joy of creation.

“That’s fantastic, Ellegaard!” Soren chuckled to himself as he watched the items move upwards through the glass elevator and into the hopper. “Simply brilliant.”

Their own grinder would benefit from having such a speedy delivery system. The current water chute worked, but it took some time and it wasn’t uncommon for one or two materials to go missing.

Ellegaard grinned as she pressed the button, unrolling a schematic while she talked.

“I’ve made some adjustments already, it wasn’t quite as fast or smooth before.” Soren grinned as he looked down at the blueprint, stained with Redstone but no less readable. He was not particularly a fan of killing mobs and searching for ingredients over and over; it took time away from making discoveries. He had no idea what he would do without grinders.  “If you think it’s good now, wait until you see what I have in mind.”

Ideas were tossed back and forth, they discussed strategies and tactics for the next day and further in the future, and they laughed about the insanity that was life. Ellegaard was brimming with theories that she never shied away from sharing, notions that always led to more and more inventions and possibilities.

Soren always enjoyed her company.

He finished up another spoken aloud plan, this one longer than he had intended but nonetheless enjoyable to chat about.

“What do you think, Ellegaard?” There was no response. Soren set down the container and turned. “Ellega- Ah.”

Was it already that late? It couldn’t have been far past midnight.

She had her head side down on the desk, her goggles covering no doubt closed eyes and a hand loosely holding onto a lever. Chocolate brown hair curled and shielded most of her face. Her snores were light, but they were there.

It took Soren a minute or two to gather some blankets, unfamiliar with where he could get some besides one of their rooms. When he was down here, it was time to experiment, and the ever praised forty winks never seemed needed enough to combat the desire to learn.

However, Soren was well aware that Ellegaard was different, and that her sleeping patterns were far from regular.

He tsked quietly as he softly pulled the instrument out of her grip and brushed away the Redstone pile near her head. He then put the wooly, worn blanket he had managed to find around her shoulders.

It wasn’t healthy for her to do this to herself.

Soren himself did not sleep that night, but that was different. His condition was well enough off, and there was really too much to do to rest.

There was plenty of light, so he could always work.

Even if the torches blew out, which they had the tendency to do on occasion, he could easily work by the glow of the command block.


	93. Hickey (Jesse/Magnus)

Everyone on the planet had at least one thing in common.

They were all only human, and it was gratifying to know that the same applied to the order members.

They were people too, people with feelings and hopes and fears. People that could be befriended, that could be talked to.

Jesse’d gotten to know folks she’d by no means expected to.

She looked up, hand freezing before her weapon could strike the armor stand again, a blast going off in one of the upper floors. It was followed by whooping, laughter, and more explosions. The two voices she could make out were both very familiar, one raspier than the other. Jesse shook her head with a smile before returning to attacking the stand.

Magnus, for example.

For a very long time, he was an elusive figure, one of the mysterious members of the Order of the Stone. Then the world had been ending and they’d actually gotten to meet him.

It went better than it could’ve.

Jesse’d been able to take the throne from him despite having not been prepared at all for the fight, as well as having very little familiarity with griefers.

Axel didn’t count. He never tried to kill her.

Point was, she’d managed to become Queen of Boom Town even after a certain someone had decided to double-cross her.

Queen of Boom Town for twenty seconds before the Witherstorm showed up and demolished everything. Hey, she’d done it, regardless of how long she’d had the title.

Not that she’d ever bring that up or tease Magnus about it, definitely not.

Maybe once or twice.

His reaction was always worth it; he didn’t blow up or get mad, he tried to get even.

There was a reason he was king of all griefers. Now that the past order members were always around to help their successors, Magnus and she could go on for hours, mocking each other but neither getting honestly angry or going too far.

Not that they talked all the time. Every now and then, Jesse and he would basically sit together, away from all the noise, all the people, all the memories that came with them. Reminiscing wasn’t fun; it liked to come back and haunt them.

Last night hadn’t been so somber.

The ceiling shook as more TNT detonated, the explosion even louder this time.

Jesse could practically feel happiness radiating off of the two griefers above.

It’d been a few years since they’d first met, but even then there was still stuff she hadn’t known about Magnus until recently.

Like the fact that he smelled of gunpowder and smoke at all times, or that he talked and muttered in his sleep.

He had more scars than she’d guessed.

It wasn’t surprising how well he could hide bruises, especially considering how experienced he was at doing the same with all the other marks on his skin.

Magnus was experienced in general.

Jesse was nowhere near as good, she’d admit, but the red spots on her neck were from training.

Really.

…

Yeah, Petra didn’t believe her either.


	94. Surprise

The wooden door squeaked as Petra closed it, her armor removed. She walked up the quartz stairs as thunder rumbled outside, the rock’s chill seeping through her socks.

There was something off about their small fortress today.

It was quiet, maybe for the first time since it’d been built. Petra could hear the soft clicks of Olivia’s inventions down below, the pitter and patter of rainwater against the walls, every footstep echoing slightly. No explosions, no yelling, no chattering, nothing.

No one was around. It was part of the reason her practicing had concluded early. There was only so long a person could fight against immobile and lifeless targets before getting bored. Normally Jesse would’ve trained with her, but Petra hadn’t even seen her yet. The clock on the wall told her it was noon. It ticked slowly as lightning glinted off of the skewed golden rim.

Petra had seen Lukas earlier, but he’d acted incredibly weird, speaking in short sentences and fidgeting, hightailing it again in a few seconds.

Something was up, that was for sure.

Another prank war? They’d finished one that had been going on for weeks the other day, but she wouldn’t rule it out. It’d started with Jesse and Axel managing to trick both Olivia and Lukas, and the two had collaborated to get revenge using a massive machine involving eggs, and it’d escalated from there until it’d ended with the entire structure being covered with chicken feathers, inside and out.

Whatever it was, she’d find out soon enough.

Petra meant to go get herself a drink and then head back down to work out or mine. They had a nice sized tunnel that was yielding some good ores that could use some expanding.

However, as she walked down the hall she saw Jesse coming from the opposite direction.

“Hey Jesse.” The other woman strode right by and entered a different hallway, too busy with whatever she was doing to notice her. Jesse muttered to herself as she focused on the clipboard in her hand, flipping through the pages on it. “Okay then, good talk.”

Or she could follow Jesse and figure out what was going on now.

The rain came down harder, dim pounding of the shower coming from the roof.

Petra waited a minute before going down the hall.

She treaded quietly, sounds and voices getting louder the closer she got.

When she reached the room, the door was cracked, not quite closed. It opened with a creak that went unnoticed in all the racket.

Petra watched as they buzzed around the room, which was decked with various colored balloons and streamers. Axel and Lukas were moving a decorated table as Olivia fiddled with a lever and some Redstone, connected to a larger machine Petra couldn’t fully see. Jesse was in the corner smiling at something, holding in her hand a large bristled paintbrush that sluggishly dripped black.

Petra had no idea what the occasion as or why she hadn’t heard about it. As far as she knew, there were no anniversaries coming up, and they’d celebrated Jesse’s birthday last month. Axel’s wasn’t for four more months, Olivia’s for six, and Lukas’s was three months ago.

It seemed everyone realized she was there at once, all of them freezing, stuck in their positions.

“Leave it to you to ruin your own birthday surprise.” Lukas lowered his side of the table as Axel did the same.

“Birthday?” Hers? Was it that day already?

Jesse walked over, brush still in her hand.

“Remember? You talked about it a few days ago.” Shoot. She was right; it’d been Maya’s birthday then. Petra hadn’t thought anything about it when Jesse had asked. “Didn’t you think we were going to do something?”

“Not really.” Petra shrugged as she looked at what they had set up again. “To be honest, I didn’t even think of it.”

“You forgot your own birthday.” Heat started creeping up her neck.

“It’s not a big deal, it doesn’t matter.” Like they’d never done it themselves. “You guys, you didn’t need to do this.”

Everyone else looked at each other as Petra took a step back. Axel finally spoke up, his brow rising.

“Of course we did. You’re our friend.” Parties were for important people.

Parties weren’t for people like Petra. They’d gone through all of this work, for her?

“Well… Sorry.” Olivia, dusted from head to toe with Redstone, put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright. As long as you’re here, we might as well get started.” Things were livelier after that.

It turned out that what Olivia had been working on was a device that, once the lever was pulled, would release a burst of stored confetti. Petra was almost buried in color.

What Jesse had painted was a banner, the words “Happy Birthday, Petra!” fresh.

It was insane; they had all gotten her gifts, too.

She received a diamond sword from Jesse, who had to pry herself away from the resulting hug, powered and detector rails for their developing mine from Olivia, who insisted that it was no big deal, as well as a full set of iron armor from Lukas, which he admitted was what he had been hiding when she’d seen him earlier.

The cake from Axel was both homemade and delicious. It was sweet and tasted great, though every bite was sugary enough to rot away teeth.

They fell asleep that night on or around the fuzzy couch on the main floor in front of the fire, leaning up against and intertwined with each other.

Petra could say without a doubt that it was the best birthday she’d had in a very long while.


	95. Baby (Aiden/Jesse)

“I don’t want to have a baby.” Jesse’s voice, normally so sturdy, was small, hushed. Aiden could hardly hear her over the buzz of noises from outside the dark room, sounds barely muffled by wood.

They’d been in a blind panic from the moment they’d found out she was expecting.

Aiden and Jesse weren’t married.

They’d been dating for a few years, had forgotten protection one night. Might or might not have been a bit drunk at the time.

Oh yeah, he’d absolutely gotten a nice, friendly talking to.

He’d had a lot of those, actually.

Everyone seemed convinced that Aiden was going to screw it up before the baby was born.

Petra had threaten to skewer him wither her sword if he abandoned Jesse. If he had thought that she was intimidating before... The redhead could be vicious and he didn’t doubt she’d make good on that threat.

Olivia had offered to show him her latest invention: a small, compact grinder that could conveniently crush a person to death in under a second.

Axel- Look, the other man hadn’t liked him from the start, really didn’t like him right now. If he’d been strong before, living in Boom Town had only made him tougher. Axel was a mass of muscle that wanted Aiden dead and would see him that way if he slipped up.

Lukas had taken him aside and talked, too, though Aiden knew his leader well enough to know he was more worried than angry.

Aiden could understand the animosity.

Both of them weren’t even 30 yet. Were they really responsible enough? They sure as hell weren’t ready.

Whether or not they were going to keep the kid was up in the air.

It would be easier to give them up for adoption, send them to an orphanage, away to people qualified to be parents. To people who knew what they were doing.

If he and Jesse chose to keep them, it’d probably be best to get married, preferably before the birth.

There were other issues to worry about.

It was harder for Jesse to be an adventurer now, and anything that hurt her during a battle could easily kill the infant she carried.

Jesse was the leader of the new order. That wasn’t a position that came cheap. The Order of the Stone made enemies almost every time they saved someone, and they saved a lot of folks. There were plenty of individuals out there who would’ve loved to get Jesse and her friends out of the way so they could wreak havoc.

It was one thing to know the person you were dating could die any day. They both accepted that, knew the risks and possibilities. It was a completely different thing to raise a kid in a family where one or both of their parents could die at any time. A family where they could be targeted purely because of their parents. It wouldn’t be fair.

It also wasn’t fair to pitch them into an orphanage and just wash their hands of the whole thing. No one deserved that.

The world, plain and simple, wasn’t a fair place. That wasn’t how things worked.

They could do it, together. They’d work something out.

Aiden looked back down at Jesse, her head buried into his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him as if he was the only thing keeping her up.

His heart pounded against his chest, desperate to get out before things got worse. A baby. A little person that would need love, attention, good role models, protection, happiness.

Aiden rubbed circles in Jesse’s back, eyes fixed on the wall. What Jesse needed was support. He could do that.

“I know.”


	96. Cold (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Ellegaard stared at the sky, time crawling by upon a snail’s back.

She had run from a monstrosity that was tearing apart the world, dodging flying objects and thrashing, glowing appendages. She’d watched a city she’d built from scratch fall and people she’d known die. By all means, she should’ve been exhausted.

And yet sleep eluded her.

Ellegaard walked quietly, her footsteps soft clacks against stone, to the wall. She sat atop it, one of the remaining walls close to her back.

Against her wishes, they were staying. Every second they waited was another second they were hunted.

She looked back up at the sea of stars.

All of her inventions, her schematics, years of work, destroyed. So many people gone, sucked up into the bone crushing jaws of death.

It was supposed to have been a good day, one filled with the excitement and the buzz of creativity. She’d have found the secret to making the command block, and who knew what she and her protégé would make next?

Naturally that hadn’t happened.

Thoughts of what could have been played in her head until she was joined by unexpected company.

The stench of cigarettes was thick, refusing to leave her nostrils. When he sat down, Ellegaard saw that Magnus wasn’t currently smoking one. Instead it, unlit, sat between his teeth.

He didn’t like her being here, and she knew she didn’t like his surprise presence. They argued and bickered because anytime she tried to say anything he had to jump down her throat.

Why in Jeb’s name had he come over?

Ellegaard already knew the answer. To be aggravating, why else?

Well, she wasn’t going to let him get her to the stage where they argued like children again. Jesse had been right. They were grown adults.

“Magnus.” Short and to the point.

“Ellegaard.” He stretched out her name to the point where it was almost as annoying as the nickname, his whisper no more pleasant than his shouts.

It was tempting to walk straight back to bed.

The sat in silence, the snores of the people behind them and the small chirps of the creepers below all they could hear.

It was no surprise that Magnus broke the hush.

“How- How bad is that thing, really?” Magnus pulled out a lighter as he talked, Ellegaard frowning as he lit the cancer stick. “The way you keep talking about it, it’s hell itself.”

_Bad enough that sitting around here’s not only a moronic idea, but a suicide wish._

Ellegaard didn’t say that.

Self-control. They weren’t children.

“It is.” A small, hollow laugh escaped her. “It’s deafening and colossal, and it can tear anything down almost instantly.”

Magnus gave her a sideways look.

“How’s it then that that thing got Gabriel but not her?” He jabbed a thumb at the snoring redhead in the corner.

“Gabriel- I don’t think there was any way he could’ve survived.” Besides going through the portal first, but that wasn’t like him. He never would’ve done that. It didn’t surprise her to hear that he had decided to basically sacrifice himself for the chance to help others. He was the type. “I’m amazed she did, to be honest.”

No offense to her, but a simple miner didn’t seem a probable candidate for outrunning death.

“So she’s the lucky one.”

“We all are.” She had come very close to not making it. Everyone present, save Magnus, had seen firsthand what that eyesore was capable of.

They froze as one of the sleeping bodies stirred, the loud snore cut off midway before being started again.

It was the large one- Axis, was it? Ax? Something like that.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you were usurped.” She rolled her eyes as he crossed his arms. “You truly have high quality admirers.”

“You’re one to talk. How ‘bout your cheerleader? Real smooth one there.” Ellegaard winced as she remembered the little incident that had occurred earlier.

“She’s a bit… excitable.”

“Like a puppy. So’s he.” Magnus leaned back against the cobble, both hands behind his head. “They all are. No idea what they’re getting into or how they’re gettin out of it.”

It was perhaps the smartest thing she’d heard him say since arriving, as well as the most on the mark.

What were they thinking?

 “What have we gotten into?” Ellegaard muttered to herself more than she did to him. “Should we really be doing this? I mean, after all…”

_We’re frauds. Fakes. Not the people they need._

It went unspoken.

“Not much choice. I mean, yeah, I’d feel better about this if we had Gabe, but…” Magnus shrugged. “You said it yourself, that’s not really an option.”

The pause that followed could’ve been cut through with a knife.

A skeleton shot a few arrows at the wall before giving up and wandering away.

“Redstonia’s all gone, then? Ouch.” Tact. Magnus had yet to meet it. It took more than it should’ve to keep her voice steady.

“What’s done is done.” Ellegaard looked down at the dark ground and the moving blobs.

Her head snapped back up as Magnus gave a low whistle.

“What?!” She hissed at him while the zombie moans below became faintly louder.

“That’s cold, even for you. Shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. You’re good at seeing things destroyed and just moving right along, aren’t ya?” He raised his voice as he continued. “You pretty much nuked what we had, and what’d you do? Went on like nothing happened, didn’t give a damn about us-”

“Don’t you dare try to act like the victim.” Ellegaard cut him off as she looked behind them. It didn’t seem like anyone had woken up. She lowered her voice back to a whisper. “There never was an us.”

Ellegaard turned her head away and shut her eyes. When she looked back, Magnus was getting up, mouth set in a hard line.

“Of course there wasn’t.” Acid dripped off of his words. He gave a mock bow and put out his cigarette. “My mistake. Could’ve sworn there was something. Goodnight Ellie.”

She returned to bed soon after.

Ellegaard yanked the blanket up to her shoulders, glaring up at the moon.

That was what she got when she tried to reason with him.

There’d been _nothing_ to begin with and she’d learned from her mistakes.


	97. Forgive

Jesse sighed as she looked up, passing a well as she did.

She’d long since come to accept that Reuben’s death was her own fault, she’d been too slow and too incompetent, and that blaming anyone else was irresponsible.

Yet… she hadn’t exactly forgotten all the other things Ivor had done and caused, and she wasn’t the only one.

It was a long time ago, but some people still couldn’t forgive.

Years had passed, but old wounds remained fresh.

Ivor’s house, a small little wooden home on the edge of the town near the new order’s temple that he’d gotten not long after the Witherstorm incident, was often vandalized, phrases and images painted on in various dubious fluids and pastes. It wasn’t uncommon for a window to have been shattered while the enchanter was out collecting ingredients.

Today it seemed to be untouched, looking almost serene in the bright sunlight as Jesse approached.

Ivor himself rarely traveled through the more populated areas of the village, though if it was because of the stares or the rumors Jesse didn’t know.

She herself had mostly avoided the man when it could be helped. He was incredibly accommodating when the order had questions, but so were Ellegaard and Gabriel.

Six years and she hadn’t had a single relaxed, pleasant conversation with the man.

No more. This time Jesse was going to be the person everyone kept telling her she was.

Her fingers rapped against solid, smooth wood once, twice.


	98. Touch (Ivor/Soren)

Soren stares out the window, hands trembling slightly.

The Endermen trade blocks, limbs brushing but neither apparently minding.

They’ll trade with one another but not him. They obviously can and are willing to share physical contact, but they won’t with him.  Never him.

Absently he clasps his hands, grip tightening by the second.

It’s been such a very long time since anyone’s touched him. A hug, a pat on the back, a handshake, anything.

It’s only as the crash stops ringing in Soren’s ears that he realizes there was one to begin with.

Looking down, he sees he’s dropped the plate he was carrying, now lying in two pieces on the floor. Not a clean cut either.

Why, one of his hands is bleeding. How odd.

Soren shakes his head as he examines the gash. It isn’t deep, but it almost spans across his entire palm.

What had he been doing?

Getting caught up in silly drivel again. Things are as they should be. It’s better this way.

He walks through a strange haze as he goes for some medication.

All he has to do is ask for a healing potion from-

No, no he can’t.

Soren chuckles to himself as he bandages the wound, the disinfectant he applies never stinging him as he expects. Maybe it does. He’s not sure.

It’s the last of sleep leaving him, he’s sure, even if he knows he’s been awake for many hours.

He’ll pick up the shards and eat later. There are things to do, Endermen to study.

Soren fervently shoves away the sudden unbidden image of a man who once loved him, who shared affection with him freely, a man he hasn’t seen in years.

He’s not sure how many. It doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t need him.

He doesn’t need anyone.


	99. Reverse

Gabriel’s cave was larger than it looked from the outside, winding passages branching off to Notch knew where with a large, somewhat dimly lit main tunnel.

“What happened?” Gabriel’s shoes clicked against the stone and gravel beneath as they walked. “I don’t believe you make these trips out into the forest at night regularly, Ivor.”

Him being trapped by a zombie had probably made that clear.

Sylvester purred and rubbed up against Ivor’s legs as he answered.

“You saw the potion brewing system?” Basic, yet efficient. Not award winning by any means.

“Booth six?” Ivor nodded. “I did.”

“The splash potions were ‘accidentally’ knocked over by Gary right as we finished our build.” The unlucky black cat had been right under the stand as it fell, left invisible and poisoned. “Some of them managed to hit Sylvester. I went after him.”

Some of the potions had managed to hit people, and the last Ivor had seen, a fire had also been started in the confusion.

How injured he was in the end, it was hard to tell. At any rate, he wasn’t bleeding.

“I’m glad to see the two of you are alright, then.”

Ivor wondered if Magnus and Ellegaard had given up searching. Hopefully they hadn’t run into any trouble.

* * *

 

By the time they reached the outside again, it was to a bridge with an incredible view of the forest, Endercon visible over the foliage.

Ivor had also somehow achieved being asked along to finish a trade with Gabriel later on as well.

A recognizable lava waterfall shone brightly through glass, a beacon in the pitch-black that had overtaken the rest of the area in the night.

Ivor would be lying if he claimed he didn’t feel disappointed. It had seemed like this year would be the one.

Obviously not.

“Fantastic.” Ivor muttered as he narrowed his eyes. They had worked so hard, but it didn’t matter in the end. Ashes to ashes.

“You did well. You shouldn’t judge yourself so harshly.” Gabriel rested a hand on his shoulder. “Or them, for that matter. They aren’t so bad, once you get to know them.”

Ivor said nothing as he turned his head to look at Gabriel.

“ _Soren_ isn’t as bad. He’s been there for me before, when I’ve needed help and no one else would bother. Try to give him a chance, Ivor.”

“Soren’s definitely… different.” An odd kind, undeniably. The redhead had stared at him for a good deal of their construction time, hardly paying any attention to his own creation. Ivor had had to tell him to focus on his build to snap Soren out of it. Whether that had really worked was up to debate.

* * *

 

The trade itself was a disaster, and what it led to was its own beast. The incident with the slime machine was best ignored; never mind the debacle with that poor woman.

Ivor wasn’t quite sure what to think as he entered the basement alongside his friends.

There were weapons everywhere. Opening any chest revealed a plethora of pickaxes and swords, nearly all of them enchanted. Every single one was made of iron.

What he and Gabriel discovered in one chest was particularly interesting.

The potions weren’t skillfully made, not by any stretch of the imagination, but they were rare. Half of them Ivor had only read about, the ingredients too scarce and too dangerous for even Gabriel to get.

His earlier words echoed in his mind, reminding him to be quick.

The potions were nabbed and tucked away, in time for Ivor to find Magnus considering stealing a sword that glowed more brightly than any of the others. Ultimately, it was replaced by a much dimmer blade.

* * *

 

The sides of Jesse’s mouth twitched upwards as he double-checked one last time to make certain he had everything. His Iron Golem had taken care of the intruders.

They were too late to do anything.

He could hear Petra talking from down here, a familiar voice spewing familiar falsehoods, and he scowled at the ceiling.

For all the familiarities, things had changed. She had, and he had too.

Jesse’d come across a thrown out mirror, broken and cracked, while waiting for his final piece.

There were dark bags under his eyes, and the coarse, uneven stubble on his chin had only grown. His clothes were faded, the worn coat he wore two sizes too big, and he was skinnier than he had been before. His hair was unruly and wild, wiry curls reaching past his shoulders and almost in his eyes, giving him the overall look of a madman.

He hadn’t had time to care for his appearance, and frankly it’d worked out.

No one cared or thought twice about a greasy vagabond, especially not when concerned with more “important” subjects.

Such as the appearance of Petra the Warrior.

Tonight was the night. After years of planning and waiting, it would all be worth it.

When the crowd saw that Petra, their famed hero, couldn’t take down a Wither, something lesser known adventurers were known to do, they would ask questions. They would turn to him, the person who would have managed to destroy the creature. The command block would be gone, good riddance, and the lie unearthed.

It would be over.


	100. Bound (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas blearily blinked as he came to, barely able to make out the fuzzy image of a stone wall in front of him. His goggles were gone, as was his jacket and shirt, something was around his mouth, his hands and feet were bound.

Where in the world-

He winced as he shifted, his back screaming.

Right.

It hadn’t started out like this; it never did.

The Order of the Stone had been asked to help deal with a few burglars, and Lukas and his team had offered to help. It sounded like more of a minor problem than fighting Ghasts or Blazes.

It turned out the crooks were more than they seemed.

First off, they were an experienced group.

Slavers, muggers, horse thieves, they had quite a few crimes under their belts. The gang been followed to this town, a little rural community dab smack in the middle of nowhere, where Jesse and Lukas’s groups had agreed to split up to cover more ground.

They hadn’t known the leader of the thieves was a respected individual in the settlement.

Lukas and Jesse had been caught in an ambush, where they’d been taken down too easily after some clever splash potions, then a mock trial, and before you knew it they were convicted of thievery.

Lawbreaking wasn’t taken lightly around here, and the punishments weren’t all too diplomatic.

In fact, they were downright barbaric.

The whip had sliced through them, again and again as they were struck. Lukas couldn’t remember if they’d been gagged then-

No, they had- He had, at any rate. He remembered biting on it during the lashing. It, dusty and tied on tight, had made breathing harder. It hadn’t changed a bit since.

He had no idea how Jesse was doing.

Lukas moved a sore hand as best as he could, stiff fingers brushing up against grit and sand before finding warm flesh.

Lukas swept a hand against the open palm again, this time his fingers finding skin that was coated in something warm and sticky.

Blood. His or Jesse’s?

Probably both.

Lukas grimaced and shut his eyes, hot pain stabbing his head.

Moving was much harder than it should’ve been. Just when he thought he was adjusting, he was knocked back to square one.

His mouth tasted both metallic and bitter, a toxic combo.

Lukas opened his eyes, vision blurry again.

 _Toxic_. They’d been poisoned.

Despite them being a small, enclosed room, with no windows and a single iron door, it was damp.

His hair wasn’t drenched because of sweat. Not solely.

Lukas licked his cracked lips as he slowly looked up.

Water dripped from above, arctic as it hit his face.

Lukas tilted his head slowly until the water started to land on the gag. A few minutes passed before it seeped through the cloth.

He could taste the dirt in it, but he didn’t care. It was frosty and wet, a nice change from the hot air practically forcing its way down his throat.

Soft fingers brushed up against his hand, making Lukas freeze.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

Instead, he moved so that Jesse’s hand rested in his.

He rubbed the other man’s thumb gently, trying as hard as he could to calm his shuddering boyfriend.

Lukas wished he could do the same to himself.

The two of them were poisoned, movement was a challenge unto itself, there was no telling what was going to happen to them.

As for their friends…

He didn’t know if they even knew where he and Jesse were, if they were searching for them or had heard about the two arrested thieves.

If they’d been caught themselves.

Lukas’s blood turned to ice.

Hoping for a rescue was fine, but there was a terrifyingly real chance their friends had been detained too.

How on Minecraftia were they going to get out of this one?


	101. Sickness

Ellegaard had been the first one to catch it, the “it” in question being a nasty virus that plagued the affected with delirium, ridiculously high fever, lethargy, and violent vomiting.

Healing potions helped, but they only did so much. Illnesses were very different from wounds, and the success of concoctions on them varied.

Ellegaard wasn’t lucid yet, though all things considered, that was perhaps for the best.

Soren was second, more lucid than Ellegaard and yet afflicted with more nausea. He’d been found lying on top of an incomplete build, temperature near volcanic. Ivor wasn’t surprised in the least.

The architect had been avoiding him, no doubt for the sole foolish reason of hiding his own poor condition.

Ivor had been busy enough trying to cure Ellegaard that he hadn’t had time to check on the avoidant builder.

Gabriel had actually come to Ivor, sluggish and struggling to stay upright as he carried an unconscious Soren. He also took his potion willingly, a far better patient in terms of cooperation than either of the other two.

A few days passed with no changes in their conditions, and it appeared that they would all have to wait it out. Ivor continued to look and test various concoctions while Magnus helped take care of their sick associates.

The one bright side, if you could call it such a thing, was that no one was getting worse.

Until Magnus had fallen ill mere hours ago, when Gabriel went from relatively coherent to unconscious, and both Soren and Ellegaard had been stricken by vicious bouts of heaving.

All four of them were asleep in their respective beds, snores distinct over the bubbling of brewing remedies.

Ivor closed the book in his hands, the words once again too hazy to read.

There was a ringing in his ears, a beating in his skull.

He closed his eyes, nails digging into the leather binding in an attempt to keep him awake.

It was a lost battle before it began.

The next thing Ivor knew, he was being moved, two people both holding him upright.

It wasn’t hard to identify the green clothing or the fiery hair. He tried to simultaneously steady himself while stopping them, unfortunately failing.

They were the sick ones, not him.

“Ivor, please.”

“You were sleeping like the dead.”

“You need your rest.” There was perhaps no bigger a hypocrite than Soren. If Ivor had been better, he would’ve made sure the other man knew it. “You can’t help anyone in this state.”

“The cure.” The words tumbled out as a croak.

“In the morning.” The answer was in unison, both of them letting go of his arms.

The soft, cold mattress was a sort of heaven, one he had no time for. Ivor glared up at his two assailants.

“That’s gratitude for ya.” Magnus shrugged from where he was leaning against the wall, his head facing Soren. They turned away, and Ivor let his head rest on the pillow.

“Thank you.” It was a miracle they had heard him, though their stopping made it clear they had.

Soren looked back, a smile on his face.

“We should all try to get some rest.” The two of them more or less lurched out of the room, although Soren began to sprint before he passed the doorway, hand over his mouth.

Eyes shutting, all Ivor could hope was that Soren managed to make it to the bucket beside his own bed in time.


	102. Suffocation (Petra/Axel)

He was terrified of small spaces and she knew.

As tough as Axel tried to act, it didn't fool Petra. She doubted it convinced anyone, really.

She would admit though, she'd thought it was more of a dislike than an actual phobia.

Maybe his hesitance to going deeper into the cave should've been a clear enough warning.

It wasn't that he wouldn't. Jeb, he made it clear that he'd follow her anywhere, and he would. Time and time again he'd proven that he hadn't been joking about that.

Searching for lapis for Jesse, some experiment she wished to run, they had been pressed up as closely as they could, torches providing dim light to try and beat back the encroaching darkness that encompassed the corners and further reaches of the cavern.

They turned a corner, the passage spiraling downwards as it got smaller, and she could've sworn his breath hitched.

Petra turned to him, intending to tell him it was alright if he wanted to head back.

She was halfway through her sentence when they were graced by every miner and explorer's worst nightmare, beaten only by surprise lava flows.

A cave in.

Petra had tried to dodge while Axel remained frozen as they were buried.

Gravel had come down hard, sand sifting down quickly after.

The tunnel entrance was buried, the ceiling uneven, jagged, and much closer than it had been before. Her leg was, at best, unresponsive, twisted at an odd angle.

No problem. Remove the debris, gather what she could, and get back out to take care of any injuries before coming back.

This was easy to break material, after all. She'd be out in no time and back to digging like she always was.

Only one issue.

As Petra blearily stood up, head in her hand, she heard the faint shriek of a bat, no doubt a good deal behind.

There was the trickling of sand as the last of it fell to the great mess that was the floor, water dripping slowly through the stone above.

Wiping blood from the side of her face, it occurred to Petra, so used to being alone on her expeditions, that there was someone she had not heard from since the rumbling of rock above and the initial surprised shouts from the both of them.

She'd heard of death by suffocation before, of course she had, nearly experienced it herself a few times.

There was a scramble as she began to dig through the rubble, pickaxe forgotten and hands raw, finally coming across hair, soft though caked with grit.

A bleeding scalp wasn't far behind, attached to a likewise motionless and damaged body.

Petra looked for a pulse, shaky hands going to his throat and a wrist.

...

She had no idea what she would've done if there hadn't been one, faint but steady, pounding away.

* * *

Later, when Axel could breathe without coughing and Petra could walk without a crutch, they would joke about the incident. Petra would ask how stupid it was that she hadn't had any healing potions on her, and Axel would mock how easily he had been taken down.

They would let the conversation trail off before changing the subject.

It was perhaps the best for the both of them that she mined alone.

There was too much of a chance that the next accident wouldn't end so fortunately.


	103. Mistake

Smile when out and about, say she’s fine, change the subject, rinse and repeat.

Jesse’s thrashing in the smothering sheets, hands clawing for another body, screams begging for someone to save her from the images that won’t leave her head. He’s helped before, she needs him again.

She’s knows he’s not there. There’s no one beside her tonight.

Because he’s not loving her anymore. She’s gone and made sure of that now, hasn’t she?

It’s awful hard to help when you’re dead. When your lover’s made the wrong choices, taken too long, and seen you die, what can you do?


	104. Children (Lukas/Petra)

If it were a story, the skies would have been dark and gloomy, lightning striking and thunder rumbling in the background, cold, sharp rain stabbing everyone and everything.

However, it wasn’t, and the ever practical sky had other things to do and different weather patterns to dish out, thank you very much.

Petra preferred it this way. The other would’ve been too melodramatic; there was no need for a pity party.

Golden reds and pinks filtered through the windows as the sun started to descend behind the large blue mountains, birds screeching in the air.

The door clicked as it was shut, and Petra dropped the bag of various gems and other materials onto the floor as her boyfriend ambled into the house. She’d finished counting them; there were enough to fulfill the three remaining trades she had yet to complete.

Maybe she was too quiet. Maybe her grin wasn’t right.

It didn’t matter, he noticed anyhow.

“Something on your mind?” Lukas raised his eyebrows as he sat down, smile on his face and his goggles in a hand.

“I don’t want to have a baby.” Petra watched carefully, trying to gauge the slightest bit of change. Lukas’s smile vanished, but he wasn’t frowning. “Everyone else is settling down, raising kids. It’s like they’re all moving on, expecting us to jump ahead with them.”

She respected them wanting to have families, that they had lives of their own to run.

It was the unspoken pressure, which had been building up for quite a while, the constant repeated question. No, she and Lukas weren’t wed yet. Yes, still dating. No children, not now, possibly never.

Petra knew raising a kid was more than she was up to, and Lukas had made it clear multiple times that having children wasn’t something he wanted.

Jesse’s tot was a real treat, and Olivia’s was proving to be just as smart as she was. Gill and Maya had gotten hitched years ago, their twins always ran around and caused havoc these days, and Aiden had married an archer from the town over last summer.

More and more people their age seemed to be toting kids around. Axel was the only other one who didn’t have any children yet, and Petra suspected that had more to do with him almost getting himself blown up on a regular basis than a lack of wanting any.

Lukas rested a hand on her arm.

“Well, we don’t. We can be as fast or as slow as we like.” She couldn’t deny that they’d been going along nice and relaxed. Fifteen years of relatively happy dating, and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Honestly, I think everybody would be happy as long as we’re happy.”

“I know.” They had some of the greatest friends they could ask for. It didn’t make the fears go away.

Neither of them said anything more on the subject, Petra leaning back as she listened to Lukas talk about his latest project, his hands moving quickly as he did.


	105. Trust (Jesse/Magnus)

Long after midnight and way before sunrise, Magnus laid awake.

The bed was warm, the pillows soft, his bones ached, and everywhere was sore, but his mind was racing.

Sometimes it was hard to believe.

One best friend dead, the other missing, and the remaining two were so busy trying to keep themselves afloat while helping out that they could hardly give him the time of day if they wanted to.

Yet Magnus was here. Here with Jesse, in his bed.

Jesse, who, for whatever reason, trusted him. Even now, the brunette’s bare back was turned to him, and Magnus didn’t think it was possible for a guy to look more relaxed.

Magnus used to be the griefing king. There was no honor between griefers; it was common sense to keep both eyes open and your hide protected by you and only you.

There’d been flings, sure. There were always flings, one night bouts of fun that were thrown aside as soon as the sun rose, if not sooner. Boom Town had always been filled with all sorts of activity at every hour, whether it was backstabbing or lovemaking.

This was different.

It’d been the longest since someone actually loved him like this, and he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t screwed it up in the end.

He hadn’t, though, not this time, not yet.

Magnus let his calloused fingers trace smooth skin as his mind wandered.

Hands that weren’t hardened, a body that wasn’t rough and marred? A luxury, practically impossible. He would know. It would be easier to list the places where he didn’t have scars.

Yet here Jesse was, hardly a mark anywhere on him.

Magnus would enjoy it for as long as he could.

He buried his nose into Jesse’s neck, gently wrapping his arms around him.


	106. Rough (Lukas/Axel)

Some people were morning people.

Lukas liked to consider himself one. He usually woke up early, and when he did he was ready for whatever the day had to throw at him.

Others, however, like Axel, were not. There was waking up on the wrong side of the bed, and then there was not wanting to wake up at all.

While Lukas, showered and beaming, sat at the table, the demolitions expert, eyes hardly half opened and black hair tangled, grumbled and glared as he poured himself a drink.

Lukas’s grin only grew as Axel scowled more.

The bigger man took one look at the smile on the blond’s face as he sat down.

"You are cordially invited to go fuck yourself.” It was accompanied by a well-known one finger salute.

Lukas waited until Axel lifted his mug and took a swig.

Timing, he’d learned, was everything.

“It’d be better than you doing it.”

Lukas snickered as Axel tried to hack the coffee out, eyes wide and face reddening. Whether it was because of what had been said or because of the hot drink in his lungs, Lukas didn’t know.

When he stopped, coffee on his sleeve and face still pink, he was definitely awake.

“That so?” He smirked as he got out of his chair. “Pretty sure that’s not what you were saying last night.”

Good thing they had nowhere to be and nothing planned for the day.

Lukas said nothing as he stood up, ignoring the way his neck and ears burned.

Some people had buttons that were easy to push.

And some people were rough and they liked it that way.

For the record, Lukas was wrong. He’d known that from the beginning, really, but sometimes a little teasing was all you needed to make a day interesting.


	107. Strangle (Jesse/Petra)

Petra was jolted awake as two hands found their way around her throat. The fingers were clammy, nails sharp, the grip tight. It took her a second for her vision to adjust, fuzzy figures slowly gaining edges and details.

Jesse was on top of her, bony knees digging into Petra’s stomach and hips, brown eyes not looking at her so much as through. Jesse shook, breath coming out ragged.

Even with the element of surprise on Jesse’s side, Petra could get her off. The other woman had a smaller build and frame, and Petra knew exactly where to hit. However, she also knew Jesse was very much like a cornered animal in this state, and any sudden or rash movements would only make things worse.

Petra slowly brought her hands up and grabbed Jesse’s wrists. At first her girlfriend panicked, hold constricting. The edges of Petra’s eyesight became dark and blurry again.

“Jesse.” The word came out raspy, the best she could do. “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”

Nothing happened. For a moment, while the room continued to dim, Petra considered shoving Jesse away, as risky a move as that would’ve been.

The hands let go.

“Petra?” Jesse wrapped her arms around Petra as she buried her head into Petra’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

It was amazing how quickly she could go from rigid to limp.

Jesse kept shaking, and Petra could feel liquid seeping through her shirt as Jesse choked back a sob.

Petra rubbed the brunette’s back, taking in some deep breaths of her own.

“It’s fine.” Jesse hadn’t ever actually hurt her, not really, certainly never meant to.

Maybe not much of an excuse, but Jesse didn’t need one. She’d been through more than enough.

This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.


	108. Oppose

Jesse readied his sword, knuckles blanching as his grip stiffened.

He never liked seeing those uncontrolled white blocks, covering up half of the upper body.

He was an unpredictable factor; Jesse knew next to nothing about him, and he seemed to be intent on keeping it that way. He’d never learn his name; it came out as a harsh, garbled jumble, akin to a demon’s.

What Jesse understood was that he was no ordinary human being, and that his powers could be very dangerous. He could seemingly warp reality at will, and was unaffected by tactics that had slayed all others. Facts were, he could make short work of Jesse and they both knew it.

 _How lucky_ Jesse was that he seemed more focused on annoying Jesse than killing him.

He comprehended more than he let on, visible eye knowing and smile rigid.

Never mind that said eye oozed black, that the smile was as gloomy as swamp fog.

His visits, brief and spontaneous, left Jesse with migraines splitting his head open and spots dancing before his eyes.

The faded figure defended the ‘innocents’, like he owed them. His comebacks were quick, subtle but edged, and his every move was that of a smug asshole. No one could actually be that repentant.

A smug asshole that left Jesse feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He was familiar in so many ways he shouldn’t have been. The hair, the smile, his voice…

Jesse had thought he was beyond this. This was his world to rule, his to pillage and plunder and slaughter as he saw fit while the Witherstorms raged on.

Of course not.

And there was no chance of a compromise, a deal, not while one of them was so fixed on countering and contradicting the other.


	109. Warmth (Maya/Gill)

In Maya’s opinion, there were few things better than staying in a warm bed, especially when it was barely light out, not dark but not irritatingly bright either.

It was almost as good as being held in a certain somebody’s arms, the smell of the bonfire and whiskey strong on both of them.

Gill’s scruffy beard brushed against her forehead as he kissed her, mumbling a good morning while he shifted. Her fingers grabbed and twisted the thin shirt he wore as she stretched slightly.

As far as Maya was concerned, the rest of the day didn’t matter. It didn’t exist.

Not moving was looking better and better.


	110. Beauty (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas is beautiful.

Maybe it’s not the right word, but Jesse doesn’t care. Lukas is handsome, gorgeous, and striking all at once. He’s strong but gentle, the fingers exploring Jesse’s body sending shivers up his spine. Right or not, it’s true.

They’re taking a break, so to speak, both thrilled but out of breath.

There’s little space between them.

Jesse gets closer and nips Lukas’s neck, swift and soft, and his hands seek out Lukas’s skin.

It’s hot to the touch, like Lukas is to the eyes.

The other man chuckles and Jesse grins.

And just like that, the fun begins again.


	111. Offering (Ivor/Jesse)

Ivor had found himself in a predicament. It wasn’t quite what one would expect the near-destroyer of the world to deal with, but it was a quandary nonetheless.

He had yet to deal with hordes of protesters or dissenters as his friends had. Despite nearly destroying the world, he had been a nobody, and continued to remain such. He had not once been revered as Gabriel and Ellegaard had, nor was he currently adored as the new order was.

The most the inhabitants of the town did was glare at and ignore him. They seemed to understand that Ivor was here to stay, for better or worse, and that they had better things to occupy their time with than bothering with a bitter old man.

For that was what he was. Age had not been kind, not as it had to Gabriel, who could easily have passed as several years younger than he was, or Ellegaard, who age treated gracefully. No.

Ivor knew well that he had the appearance of a man ten years his senior, and an unpleasant one at that.

So it was a puzzling, unforeseen dilemma that bothered him early in the morning.

This day was notorious for the rash behaviors of lovesick youth, sappy professions of affection given alongside equally tooth rotting sweets. Soren had been quite fond of it.

In front of him stood Jesse, a splatter of icing on her cheek and a mile wide smile on her face, holding out a cake. Freshly baked, if its smell and condition were any indication.

Ivor became aware of the fact that he was staring and that if he waited much longer, the brunette would no doubt decide to leave. He beckoned her in as his mind raced, stepping back to allow her in.

Perhaps this community had different traditions. Maybe the whole holiday had changed as of late and he hadn’t noticed it, busy avoiding people.

Possibly now it included mentors, teachers?

The past few months Jesse had been over more and more, mostly for lessons on enchanting and survival basics. Occasionally she attempted to brew potions, some tries more successful than others.

Ivor supposed he had begun to look forward to her visits, to the conversations they had. Being with her made ignoring the comments and scowls easier, the day that much simpler to get through. He wondered if he was even adverse to the idea of her liking him in that way. The answer was not what he had originally hoped.

 _Notch_.

It was going to be an interesting day.


	112. Family

Lukas’s horse plodded on slowly, the moon high in the sky and the air stiff and dead. Heat from the boiling day radiated off of the dirt and cobblestone below, no wildlife to be seen or heard.

All Lukas could hear was the quiet clops of hooves against ground and his own breath, coupled with that of the ridden animal. It may have been peaceful, if it wasn’t eerily silent, if he hadn’t known the world was being ravaged, if his friends weren’t somewhere, possibly injured or worse.

As they turned to avoid a tree, claw marks digging deep into dull bark, his horse whinnied and reared, nearly bucking Lukas off in the process.

There stood a man, well illuminated by the clear moonlight, blood trickling from his lip into his beard, skin around his right eye dark and swollen. He was aiming a bow, shaky arrow pointed at Lukas’s head.

Even if he’d been black and blue all over, Lukas would’ve been able to recognize Gill.

“Lukas?”

* * *

 

The reunion had been happy and loud, though Lukas was less than pleased to find his friends in various states of harm.

Aiden had a limp, Maya’s arm was giving her trouble, yet she wouldn’t say anything about it, and Gill also had a back wound that hadn’t been obvious at first.

The hug they’d all shared had still been tight all the same.

The four of them chatted, explaining and hearing the sides of the story that the others had missed.

It didn’t take much for Lukas to convince them to help him help Jesse and his friends, once things were clarified.

Now they rested up against one another, arms and legs intertwined.

Lukas’s horse was tied up safely nearby, and the fire crackled.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around, how incredibly lucky they were to all be alive.

Unfortunately, there were things to do that could kill them yet.

With the Formidi-Bomb failing to work, Soren would probably want to go back to his fortress. There were plenty of resources there, flooded with Endermen though it may’ve been. It was a start, at least. Somewhere they could go, and try.

Soren’s fort was at least a day’s travel away on foot. It would be best to sleep for the night and avoid the lurking monsters.

As Lukas looked at his friends, all bleeding in some way and injured, he knew who he had to help first and foremost.


	113. Eggshells

A cautious eye stayed fixed upon the smoker, dressed in green, in the corner. He was slouched over, one hand keeping his head up and another holding the rollup.

Olivia had no idea how to act around him.

Magnus very much seemed to be in the same boat as her.

He had been a legend, and even if what he was most famous for was faked, she’d seen what he was capable of. She also had no idea what he thought of her now.

Magnus had warmed up to Axel, often talked to Jesse, even spoke frequently with Lukas and Petra. But Olivia?

He had yet to say more than a few words to her.

Odd, given how talkative Magnus seemed to be, but understandable.

She’d more or less taken over Ellegaard’s position, and they both knew she wasn’t qualified. Olivia would never manage to live up to the inventor, she couldn’t.

Bickered though they may have, she knew what a good relationship Magnus had had with Ellegaard, at least once upon a time.

Here she was instead. Scrawny Olivia who fainted in front of her idols, who never had good enough ideas. Who was too much of a downer, let all the little things build up and get into her head.

Notch, it must have been sickening.

Shaky hands got to work on her latest machine, a contraption designed to work underwater. Testing it was proving trickier than she would’ve liked, but construction was going fine.

Time began to fly by as she resumed assembly, observer not forgotten but more easily pushed to the back of her mind as Redstone took his place.

It was beginning to darken when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

“Kid?” Her eyes darted up and she straightened, fingers tightening around her wrench.

“Yes?” Now that Magnus was closer, Olivia could see the bags under his eyes.

“You okay? Ya haven’t eaten all day.” Olivia’s brow furrowed.

She’d had lunch, hadn’t she- No, she’d been busy with the rear pistons when Lukas had called down to the workshop.

“I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead holding out a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke.” Not that he seemed to mind, as Magnus chose to light it for himself anyhow.

“Yeah, figured.” He took a drag off of it before chuckling. “Ellegaard- She was always gettin on my back for it, especially ‘f I was in her workshop. Swear she saw red sometimes.”

They went silent again, and Olivia set the tool back down next to the Redstone pile.

Her eyes refused to look anywhere but the ground.

Magnus sighed and stretched, tilting to the side as he pulled his arm.

“You know, you’re not half bad.” He patted her on the back and began to make his way upstairs. “Keep up the good work, alright?”


	114. Memories (Magnus/Gabriel)

Not all good things came with the return of Gabriel’s memory.

All the ones he had collected while afflicted remained with him, though now he looked back at them through tinted lenses.

They had talked of Magnus, but at the time it had interested him more than anything, to learn that he had a dead friend. Gabriel had been sympathetic toward Ellegaard in her mourning, but he hadn’t known what to feel himself. All knowledge of Magnus had been wiped. They very well could have actually cared little about each other for all he knew.

Then the memories had come back, the final pieces arriving in a large wave that left him dazed.

Along the way, Gabriel had recalled various bits and pieces, trivialities he chose to keep to himself.

He began to summon up images of cigarettes, the sound of scratchy laughter, the feel of rough kisses.

Things he was sure he knew due to the many dares they apparently partook in.

He had been wrong, in part.

When he had had amnesia, Gabriel hadn’t known that after they all split up, he kept promising himself he would visit his friends. That the planned trips became buried under different tasks, the chance to get closure slipping further and further away before it was crushed by a Witherstorm.

Perhaps it would’ve been best if he had never remembered.


	115. Denial (Ivor/Magnus)

Magnus was a person whom chaos always seemed to find, as well as someone who actively sought it out.

Ivor had no trouble gathering ire to direct towards the explosions lover, but keeping it was becoming more and more of an issue.

By all means, Magnus should have been sulking alone, “licking his wounds”, as it were, with no one to pity him.

And yet here Ivor was, in his bed.

N-not like that, of course. They were both fully clothed and-

Well, Magnus had no shirt on, but that was because he’d had to take it off so his wounds could be treated, it wasn’t as if-

They were cuddling, to put it simply. That was it. There had been an incident, if you could call it that, with a few creepers and a dare involving Gabriel.

The warrior was fine, though Magnus had been in a considerably worse condition. Nothing a few potions, some bandages, and rest wouldn’t heal.

The, er, snuggling, was a sort of bonus- a type of extra remedy. Magnus appreciated physical contact, and Ivor was not necessarily as adverse to it as others may have thought. It wasn’t as if it would hurt.

It was all entirely platonic, of course.

Kisses pressed up against bare, scarred skin were more subconscious, comforting measures than anything.

Soft breath that tickled his ear endearing in a completely friendly sort of fashion.

Body against body, heat flowing comfortably, freely from one to the other.

Ivor clenched his teeth, actively trying to wish the thoughts out. He should’ve been asleep, he was overthinking things.

Trying to label their relationship, their bond, was absurd.

It wasn’t that Ivor himself had no idea what to make of it, fumbled his way through as best he could.

That would be ludicrous.


	116. Grief

Grieving, they said.

Lost one of her best friends, after all, a companion that had been by her side for as long as any of them could remember.

It was great that he’d pitched in and helped, but she needed space. Maybe a few weeks to heal and things would get better.

They didn’t.

Food had to be sat on the floor time and time again outside a door that by all means should not have been able to hide so much. Meals went untouched and were left icy cold.

Enough was enough, and Lukas had finally snapped. He’d opened the door, breaking an unspoken taboo that had developed without notice or acknowledgement, and yet had found himself unprepared for the following argument.

Anger had been harnessed, steam gathered, until his steps were iron stomps and his grip on the wooden doorknob as tight as obsidian.

Yet the sight of her, shaking and with a red face, drove it away.

Untreated and likely infected wounds sat on sallow skin traced with unfamiliar black markings.

Shouts escaped bared teeth, sharp as fangs.

Dark bags hung under the undoubtedly violet eyes, moist with unshed tears.

Curses followed him as he stumbled backwards.


	117. Twist

Petra hummed to herself, the tune one that pulled old memories of warm, safe summers to the surface, as quick fingers moved and twisted long black hair.

It was soft, at least when it had actually been washed.

The old bed mattress squeaked as she shifted her weight, pausing for a moment before starting again. It had been years since she’d made a braid, but the steps were simple and familiar enough.

He’d come to her with a look on his face and a tone in his voice she knew well. Petra’s line of work required figuring people out by the way they spoke and held themselves. Ivor…

He had a story to tell, just like everybody else, not that it was anything new.

He was resigned, in the way he looked her dead in the eye, and he was tired, shoulders sagging, barely keeping himself up. For whatever reason, he thought this would help and that she was the one he could trust. Hey, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done stranger.

Granted, money had usually been involved, but friends didn’t charge friends.

That was what they were, supposedly. Jesse was certainly pushing it enough. It was harder to be mad at a man who’d almost caused the apocalypse when she hadn’t exactly been aware or herself for most of it. Her friends were all alive; it could’ve been so much worse.

Hours passed by freely, the sky outside becoming darker before turning black in a final display of colors. Neither said a word, Ivor simply bowing his head and leaving when Petra finished.

It wouldn’t be until later, shortly after finding a healing potion left at her doorstep, that Petra would learn that the last person to attempt to do _anything_ with Ivor’s hair had been Soren, and that all of his efforts had been unwelcome.


	118. Regret

Everything stopped as Ivor came into Ellegaard’s line of sight, looking mangier than she could recall ever seeing him before.

Magnus was dead, Gabriel couldn’t remember her if he tried, and Soren had been driven into another one of his moods.

And Ivor was the cause of all the chaos, had created the very heart of this whole disaster.

If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be running for their lives, scrambling for the chance to take down an undefeatable terror.

What was he doing there? What was going through his head?

She had every right to chew him out, tell him to leave. Hadn’t he done enough?

_Hadn’t they?_

Because, as her mind was quick to remind her, Ivor would not be searching for revenge, tearing the very world apart for it, if he hadn’t been wronged.

Wronged by his own best friends, who he swore to stand by.

_The friends who swore to stand by him._

She had left him in the dust, but the memories stayed with her.

Conversations held over warm tea, recommended and discussed books passed from one to the other, eye rolls shared at ridiculous antics.

And then…

She’d turned her back on him, after everything, but who had ended up better off?

Ellegaard had been heralding in waves of new inventions and inventors, head of a bustling city, never having to go far for what she needed.

Ivor had always been pale and thin, but now his body was nearly that of a skeleton’s, his skin as ghastly blanched. His clothes were faded and unkempt, hanging off of his gaunt frame.

Try as she might, she couldn’t muster any anger up, not against him, not now. They’d already lost too much.

It was with a hollow smile and weary eyes that she greeted him.


	119. Image (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas was in bed, curled up with the blankets pulled over his head.

It hadn’t been a good day. He’d woken up with a raging headache, which had only faded after lunch.  His foot had been killing him since then, after Aiden had accidentally dropped a solid block of iron on it.

It was mostly sore now.

They were all going to go swimming that evening.

There was a nice lake nearby, perfect for getting away from the heat and goofing off.

It’d been sweltering, no clouds in the sky and not a breeze to be found, and no one had to be anywhere, so everybody agreed.

Before you knew it they were jumping into the water, splashing everywhere and cheers all you could hear.

Most of them were, at least.

Lukas had been struggling a little with his trunks -he could’ve sworn the darn thing had fit last summer- When Jesse had poked his sopping wet head in and asked if Lukas was coming.

He’d seen Jesse’s body before. Of course he had. They’d been dating for months.

Even from a distance, it was easy to tell the brunette was lanky and that any meat on him was muscle.

Muscles that were glistening in the sunlight, water dripping down and off of his slim build. A silly grin on a thin face, the last of a laugh still leaving his mouth.

Lukas was faced with the question of whether or not he could honestly go out in his suit, which wasn’t cooperating to begin with, side by side with trim and fit Jesse.

The answer?

 _Hell_ no.

He’d backed his way out with a curt answer, tossed off the stupid shorts and thrown back on his usual outfit.

Lukas had spent the rest of the night going over blueprints for builds he’d been thinking about, sweating beneath his heavy jacket but refusing to take it off.

Even now he could hear their far off shouts from within the woods, the small area surrounding the deep pond lit up with torches.

It was great that they were having fun. He’d have loved to join them.

Lukas cursed himself for being an idiot, knowing it was too late to go back now.

Like all kids, he’d gone through varying stages. He’d puff out a bit before growing a few inches and evening things out. Then he hadn’t gotten any taller while his friends did, enough that the top of his head only made it to the bottom of some of theirs. Well, it would probably be his last one, so what if it was a little late?

Except that growth spurt never came, and Lukas was left a bit rounder around the edges than some of his friends, not to mention shorter.

Couldn’t forget short. His weight wouldn’t matter if it had more places to go, even a few inches would’ve made it so much better.

Normally Lukas couldn’t care less. It was what his body was happy with, so he was happy. Today had hit him hard, and he knew why.

There was no reason for it to be the way it was.

It wasn’t like he ate more than them –alright, a cookie or two here and there, but nothing big- or couldn’t keep up with them. He could run as fast, could fight as hard.

But there were a good few pounds that refused to leave.

Pity parties weren’t Lukas’s thing. He wanted a solution, a way to fix the problem.

And he knew the problem well.

He hated that his thighs touched, hated the way his stomach, too soft, pushed his shirt out _just_ enough for it to be noticeable.

The list went on inside his head until, sometime later, another body, damp, got into bed. Long arms snaked around him and Lukas couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey.” Wet hair nuzzled his shoulder, moisture seeping through his shirt. Lukas wasn’t sure to be happy or not that his jacket was off.

“Hey.” He twisted around, with a little difficulty, and he hugged Jesse back.

They were quiet for a few minutes, water from Jesse’s hair slowly dripping onto the bed.

“What happened? You seemed like you were up for it.” Lukas didn’t know if he could feel much worse for ditching his boyfriend, who continued to speak softly. “Bad day or…?”

Cold hands rested on his sides, Jesse’s likewise frosty nose touching Lukas’s neck.

Jesse liked Lukas the way he was, damned if he knew why.

“Yeah.” Lukas’s fingers may or may not have unintentionally dug slightly deeper into Jesse’s back as he spoke, but Jesse didn’t say anything.


	120. Love (Petra/Axel)

He loves her.

Her and that red hair that moves wildly in the wind, those brown eyes that glint in firelight. Freckles that manage to stand out, especially when she’s laughing. She’s sharp as a tack, always has a plan, an idea of what to do.

She’s all muscle, swinging swords like no one’s business and kicking ass as the need arises. She can run in diamond armor without breaking a sweat, has a comeback for everything. She knows where to get almost anything and where from, the best haggler he’s ever met.

She stands up for her friends, makes it clear who and what comes first. Always thinking of herself second, putting her life on the line for strangers and people who may not deserve it.

Never loses her cool, recovering from every prank and jab with something two times better.

Willing to pull him down for a kiss if need be, face reddening.

* * *

She loves him.

Loves the ridiculous, crooked grin he has, that spreads across his face like wildfire while all his teeth show, the way his eyes light up as he laughs.

He knows when he’s done wrong, when it’s his fault. Sometimes someone needs to point it out for him to back down, but it’s not like he doesn’t already know.

He’s more a teddy bear than anything, trying to be tough around them and failing. There’s bite to his bark, though.

Anyone talks smack about any of them, and he’s there, tall and cracking his knuckles. He doesn’t make empty threats.

If she ever needs someone to back her up, he’s there.

He makes some of the dumbest jokes that she can’t help but enjoy. His pranks can be more elaborate than some inventions, quick and sharp while never crossing the line.

He has some of the softest hair she’s ever felt, the highest squeak when she kisses him and he doesn’t expect it.


	121. Fall

Rain hit them like tiny arrows, icy and fast, as they stumbled onto the mud.

“Look at me - just breathe, okay?” Yeah. Great idea dumbbell, tell the blind man to look at you.

Jesse winced as he looked behind him, fog growing thicker by the minute.

He wasn’t sure what they’d stumbled across, but he didn’t want to find out.

He didn’t even know if Lukas’s new condition was temporary or not, and neither did the panicking blond.

The ground shook as more vile black liquid was spewed their way, the sludge beneath sizzling as it dissolved.

There was a roar so loud that dead trees creaked as they plummeted, the world going dark as one landed on the trapped duo.


	122. Test (Ivor/Magnus)

“Please stop petting the test subjects.” When Ivor turned around, Magnus hadn’t paused in his stroking of the slime-rabbit hybrid.

The little block of fuzz seemed torn between hopping away and leaning into the contact.

It was surprising what a potion could do when coupled with the effects of nearby lightning.

“Not my fault the little guy’s taken a liking to me.” Magnus was leaning up against the table, one arm propped up on the wood while a gloved hand scratched behind the creature’s ear.

“Hmph.” Ivor set the book down, taking note of the number beneath the open top cage. “You _would_ get along with the troublemaker.”

“This is the one that’s been giving ya problems?” The edges of Magnus’s mouth quirked up as he spoke.

“Yes.” It had struggled against everything Ivor had tried, kept attempting to squeeze through the bars and rejecting to behave during tests.

Of course it would be good for Magnus. Ivor muttered to himself as he picked up two more books that were beside a bubbling cauldron.

“What is it you want?” That was assuming Magnus had come down for a reason other than sticking his nose into someone else’s business.

“You said you’d come to dinner.” There was a drawl to his deadpan. “Guess what?”

The fact that it gave Magnus the chance to mess with Ivor’s experiments was simply a bonus, he was sure.

“Is it that time already?” It felt like less than an hour ago he’d declined having lunch. Ivor shook his head as he walked by and opened a chest, setting down the stack of books beside it. “I can’t- There are a dozen more tests I need to run before the night’s over.”

He found hot breath on his ear as two arms wrapped around him from behind, a warm body pressed flush against his back.

“Ivor, c’mon.” Magnus’s voice was subdued, a whisper. It was the closest the griefer had been to begging in quite a while. “Please.”

Ivor looked down at hands that he refused to acknowledge were shaking, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I’ll be up as soon as I put these away.”


	123. Stubborn

“So what if I broke my arm, I'm still doing it.” It’s definitely broken, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that. It’s at a weird angle and, despite her best efforts, Ellegaard can’t seem to use it to place a hand on her hip to mimic the other one, so it hangs awkwardly.

“Ellie.”

“Don’t ‘Ellie’ me.” There’s a finger in his face, and Magnus jerks his head back as she furiously wags it. “I have spent more than a week working on this, Magnus. You’re going to have to drag me and chain me down to stop me.”

Magnus groans as he drags a hand down the side of his face. He can’t believe this; she’s supposed to be the smart one. Ellegaard glares at him as she adjusts the mine cart, shoving her goggles on afterwards.

“It was your stupid idea in the first place.” No, it was Gabriel’s. Magnus still thinks it’s a good idea for a dare, but he’s not taking the blame for this one.

Not that Gabe really should either. It’s not his fault that Ellegaard’s the most stubborn woman on the planet.

She’s smart enough to know that if they go back for a healing potion, Ivor will keep her there until he’s sure she’ll heal. By that time, Magnus knows he and Gabe will have taken care of things, because they have been waiting for a week.

It’s not as if they haven’t helped and pitched in. Gabriel gathered pretty much all of the resources for the track himself, and Magnus had “cleared” the area out for construction.

He’s sure he’d gotten all the TNT.

“Fine, fine.” He climbs in after her, and they’re off before the red stone torch has a chance to hit the ground.

The cart speeds downhill like the tracks have been greased with butter.

Over the sound of the wind trying to rip his ears off, Magnus somehow hears a familiar click behind them, and, as he looks back, he sees one lone case of TNT, which they somehow missed in their sleep deprived states, flashing next to the path.

So much for getting all of it.

He has enough time to look over and see Ellegaard’s wide eyes from behind her eyewear along with her slack jaw.

It goes off with a loud bang, destroying most of the rails and sending their mine cart flying.

Magnus lands first, pain shooting up his leg as soon as he does. Ellegaard falls on him, his back cracking as she does, and the mine cart hits her wheels first. By the time Gabriel rushes over and pulls them out, he’s sure they’ve both broken more than one arm.

Ivor is going to kill them.


	124. Sleeptalk (Jesse/Lukas)

“I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.” Jesse was very lucky she wasn’t drinking something.

Shoot.

Lukas tapped his foot, standing in the doorway.

Dammit, it was too early for this. She’d only wanted some breakfast.

“Ummm…” Absently she drummed her fingers on the table, one hand holding her head up as she hummed. Jesse realized it was probably one of the less incriminating fantasies involving him, wasn’t even a fantasy really, that would be silly, simply a ridiculous little dream. That didn’t make it easier. “Because you’re the prettiest guy around?”

He was. There were plenty of women who would kill to have hair like his.

“Uh-huh.” Yeah, no, he wasn’t buying that.

“And maybe also because you look good in a dress?”

Now Lukas was lucky he didn’t have a drink. His ears were going red while his face was a very steady shade of pink.

Her own face was feeling pretty warm.

His eyebrows kept climbing higher as Jesse put her food away, she wasn’t hungry anymore, and practically ran past him and out the door.

Somehow she didn’t think the conversation was over.


	125. Puns

Teasing had become light hearted banter, which had slowly turned into meaningless bickering. All in good fun, until someone decided to cross the line.

Really, there were only so many times Jesse could find the height jokes funny.

“Take that back, or-” Axel cut her off-

Short. Great, now she was doing it.

“Or what?” The cat who ate the canary had nothing on Axel. “You can’t even reach me to hit me, shortie- OW!”

Yes, it turned out, she could.

Jesse had meant to get the side of his head, but, she concluded as Axel flinched, his shoulder worked just as well.

The punch itself hadn’t been much; she’d mostly startled him.

“You were saying?”

“Alright, alright.” He rubbed the side of his arm, smile slowly making its way back onto his face. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you have such a _short_ fuse- OW!”


	126. Pigs (Jesse/Petra)

“No, we can’t buy five hundred pigs.”

The idea alone was ridiculous, never mind the likely huge price.

The hundreds of porkers were headed straight to slaughter according to the merchant, who Petra was seriously regretting saving,

They shouldn’t have stuck around after helping the city with the slime infestation, but it was a bit too late to do anything about that now.

“Petra.” It wasn’t quite a whine, but close enough that it managed to tug at Petra, twist her heart enough to make her actually consider.

Those darn puppy eyes only made it harder.

Jesse could ask to go to the moon, and Petra would probably do her best to make it a reality.

The world’s hero shouldn’t have been allowed to be such an adorable dork.

Or a pig sympathizer with terrible timing.

Petra sighed as looked away from Jesse and back at the impatient villager.

“How much?” There were practically dollar signs in the trader’s eyes. Petra knew if she’d been offered such an unbelievable deal, she’d have felt similarly.

It was different, however, when she was the one buying and not making the profit.

* * *

Hours later, after a good deal of mishaps concerning pig herding, Petra downed a glass of water. The cold liquid was refreshing to both her parched mouth and her rough throat.

The corral had been easy to build, though it’d had to be enormous to accommodate for all of its inhabitants.

Petra set the cup down as she looked over at Jesse, who was busy with her own drink.

“You know, you could’ve told me you wanted to be a pig farmer.”

Jesse chuckled, smiling in a way that her lips showed a slight bit of her teeth.

Goofy and endearing.

“Thanks Petra.”

There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Jesse, and the two of them knew it.


	127. Outside

There was no sense or logic to greeting a tired person you wanted help from with shouted insults, but Magnus knew neither.

Ellegaard was rather sure that she was missing something, becoming aware enough to piece together words in time for Magnus’s next sentences to reach her with little issue.

"YOU ARE A DICK. Also I'm at your door. Let me in." Magnus’s brain had been withered away to nothing due to too many blasts and explosions, Ellegaard concluded.

The rain had been frigid when she had turned in for the night, and, if the reports were right, it would be a glaze now.

The pounding on her door got louder as Ellegaard covered her head with her pillow.

Magnus was drunk. There was no mistaking the way his words were mangled, the obnoxious way he let his volume go unchecked. It was insufferable even by his standards. What were the benefits to letting him in again?

“Ellie!”

Because if she didn’t haul his ass inside before long, they’d both be arrested for disturbing the peace.

Ellegaard wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the police anytime soon.

The blankets were tossed off in a huff, her pillow dropped to the ground. Socks shuffled on smooth wood, the cold seeping in with every step.

Magnus was practically dragged in, Ellegaard’s fingers curling around his shirt collar as she yanked him inside. With him came icy droplets that turned to ice as soon as they hit the floor, and a gust of wind that sucked all remaining warmth from her bones.

She smacked him upside the head before fetching herself a drink of water.

He stumbled to her couch, the path far too familiar for Ellegaard’s liking, giving only a mumbled thank you as he crashed.

It would’ve meant more if not accompanied by a middle finger that stayed in the air for a few moments.


	128. Nudity

Soren made it clear that, for the life of him, he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

"I like being naked." Simple fact.

“And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that.” Gabriel hesitated before continuing, wishing he didn’t have to explain why it shouldn’t have been so easy for the architect. “However, we would all appreciate a little decency.”

“Whatever you do in your room’s one thing, man. What the rest of us have to see is another.” Magnus wouldn’t quite look the redhead in the eye.

“Soren, it’s nothing against you- the fewer distractions, though, the better.” Ellegaard smiled, but it was stiff. There were bags under the inventor’s eyes and her movements were sluggish, although she had confided that seeing Soren in his exposed state had given more than enough of a jolt to her systems.

The solution- Well, Gabriel would hesitate to call it that, but Soren did stick to his word.

Instead of sometimes walking by in the nude, he instead wore the easiest and most comfortable clothing one could put on at short notice.

They were bathrobes only in the strictest sense, somehow almost as revealing as him not wearing anything at all.

And yet no one voiced any complaints they may have had.


	129. Cats

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats.”

“I can see that.” Olivia stepped back, letting the tabby covered Jesse in. One cat was simply lying around her neck, while another two were in her arms. The remaining duo trailed closely behind. “What I want to know is _how_ you adopted five cats by mistake. For Notch’s sake, Jesse, you were out getting stone and bricks, not pets.”

“Relax Olivia, I have the supplies.” Jesse plopped the stacks into a chest, juggling both opening the container as well as holding the animals without a second thought. “I had some fish on me, and the poor things looked like they were starving. Look at how cute they are! A-and there’s five, one for each of us.”

At this point, she held out the two in her arms.

It had to have been incredibly timing that both creatures had their heads cocked, one’s ear twitching.

“Right, because Axel and I are such cat lovers.” Olivia crossed her arms, a rolled up blueprint in her hand. “Besides, I thought you liked dogs more.”

“Picky.” Jesse laughed as she backed up, barely dodging tripping over one of her newfound friends. “Who doesn’t like cats? I mean, sure there’s a preference, but that doesn’t mean I dislike cats. I know you don’t either.”

“Oh, alright.” It was hard to be mad at the purring feline rubbing against her leg. “You’re on your own when it comes to convincing everybody else, though.”


	130. Demon (Magnus/Soren)

It was impossible to see the sun, hidden behind a large shapeless sheet of grey.

Big, cold drops of rain fell to the ground, one after the other. Heat from earlier in the day had already been sucked from the ground, leaving it empty and icy.

“That is the tenth demon summoning this week, holy shit.” Magnus closed the car door with a click, immediately glad to be out of the drizzle. Soren did the same, taking shotgun, his seat belt soon following.

Technically it was Soren’s car, but the day he drove was the day Magnus gave up explosives. The streets were busy at all hours, and an absentminded driver like Soren wasn’t what anyone needed.

“Mmh. It’s October; the links are stronger. Once Halloween’s over we shouldn’t have much activity.” Soren yawned, a full head of bright orange curls resting on Magnus’s shoulder a second later.

Never mind when he was sleepy.

“Still, you would think they’d slow down.” Magnus gave a weary chuckle as he took a quick glance behind them. Last thing they needed was to run somebody over. “I mean, Jesus, what’re they getting out of this? You’d think the thrill would wear off by the third time.”

No reply. Magnus was pretty sure his boyfriend was out.

Not that it helped that they kept getting called on. You’d also think the police would be the first choice, but it turned out they didn’t take local spirit gathering very seriously. They were busy enough with the zombies as it was.

He supposed it made sense.

Governments summoned demons. Scientists, geniuses, researches, the people with the equipment and resources to do that sort of thing. A kid calling up demons sounded as likely as a dog singing and dancing in the streets.

Unfortunately for them, both the dog thing and the kids beckoning devils happened.

Magnus would’ve rather dealt with a dozen paranormal pooches.

This way, the local unofficial paranormal team was being worn to the bone. The reason it was only him and Soren this time was because the past nine undead assemblies had left Ellie and Gabe wiped out, and Ivor was taking of them.

Even with all the recent business, they were scraping by to meet the bills. A trip to the doctor was more than a bit out of their price range.

Ivor was the next best thing. He had a PhD, in… something. Didn’t matter, he was the resident doc, and he could brew better remedies than any hoity-toity physician.

Would’ve been nice if they hadn’t gotten sick in the first place, but, hey, business was business.

Not that a kid doing their best to open a portal to hell made it any easier. Same kid every time, too. Creepy, long dark hair, as androgynous as you could get. Kept trying to bring the apocalypse about outside the old pork slaughterhouse. No known family.

Couldn’t have been more than eleven, twelve tops.

There was something off about that one. Always looked like they’d been playing with charcoal, and those had been the tackiest purple contacts Magnus had ever seen.

And he’d been dumpster diving before. Had to get new clothes somehow.

Eh, a few good scrubbings and they were like new. Cheap, at least.

The kid looked like they were possessed, but Magnus had seen possessed people before. They couldn’t move freely like that, couldn’t speak without sounding braindead or frigging crazy.

He was starting to believe they were dealing with a bonafide demon here. He didn’t have a clue how one could exist in their “plane” or whatever without a host, but that kid wasn’t normal.

Salt didn’t bother them, and neither did horseshoes. When it came to crosses and Mezuzahs, forget it.

It didn’t add up.

Something was fishy there.

Magnus pulled up, ignoring the way the ground shook, pebbles flying, and the rising black cloud of pungent smoke. Whatever it was was several blocks away, not likely going to come and bother them. He kissed the side of Soren’s head as he gripped his shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

Just another day in the big city.


	131. Forgot (Magnus/Soren)

Fire crackles as a page turns, and Soren’s eyes scan the cheap novel. It’s a trash story, but it’s enjoyable none the less, if only for how bad it is. He wasn’t expecting much for the small amount he’d paid.

“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.” Soren hears him enter, knows the warm hand that rests on his shoulder is going to be there long before it actually is.

It doesn’t stop him from jumping slightly.

“Oh. Magnus, I didn’t mean to. I simply lo-” There’s a gruff scoff, a rough hand messing with his hair.

“-lost track of time. Yeah, I know.” He had. Soren remembers how he’d gotten so tangled up with Magnus, that when he had actually fed, the sun was rising. His departure had been rushed, and it’s mostly a blur. He swears he had taken care of the corpse, but thinking back he has no proof. Soren must’ve left the bleeding body for Magnus to clean up. “I mean it. Otherwise the next time I invite you in there’ll be garlic up to your nose.”

Soren knows by the way he smiles and how there’s no real venom behind the threat that he won’t.

The hand on his shoulder slowly creeps down his arm, tanned skin striking against his own pale flesh.

Magnus isn’t often so quiet. Soren wonders what’s on his mind, his own arms slowly reaching up, hands gently grabbing Magnus’s head to pull him in for a kiss. With how short he is, it’s not hard.


	132. Uncomfortable

"I'm going to need you to put on underwear before you say anything else." Soren paused, mouth remaining open as a word went half said. His brow furrowed, mind taking a moment to catch up to the ridiculous interruption.

Gabriel’s eyes remained fixed on the wall, his head turned to the side.

“Gabriel, really? At least come and have a look at it first.” Soren had designed what he believed to be his best build to date; simple, reasonable, and yet intricate all at once. It was to use easily accessed resources that would highlight the few pieces of glowstone and quartz.

He’d burst out of his workshop and had rushed to find someone to tell about it, the clatter of his feet against stone echoing through the halls until he had realized how late it was and slowed down.

The only one awake was Gabriel. The warrior, who stared down vicious mobs and feral creatures with a stony gaze and set jaw, was unsettled and squirming before Soren simply because of some missing clothing.

Most times it was amusing, but Soren found himself more exasperated by it now.

There was decency, and then there was prudish behavior.

He was wearing the blasted robe; why would the lack of a small, and honestly, pointless article such as underwear be a problem?

Gabriel’s tone did not wavier, though his fidgeting increased.

“Soren, please.” Some people were never satisfied.

“Oh, very well.” Soren sighed and folded his arms in what he felt was a justified huff. He spun on his heel, his room up the stairs. Quite an inconvenience, but if it made his friend happy… The redhead looked behind him and called out as he turned a corner, voice low enough not to wake the others. “It’s on the table, I’ll meet you there.”


	133. Tease (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas was more dressed up than Jesse, who had decided to go casual for the nightly outing. What the blond wore wasn’t quite a suit, but they were perhaps the nicest clothes that weren’t outright formal that Jesse had ever seen.

They also nicely accentuated Lukas’s figure, hugging all the right places.

Like his rear.

"Do I go for the booty, or not for the booty?" Jesse whispered as he leaned in, glancing at Lukas as he saw their friends enter the building.

“ _Not_ for the booty if you want to sleep somewhere besides the couch tonight.” Lukas hissed back, tone the opposite of Jesse’s playful one.

“You’re no fun, you know that?” Jesse flagged the unusual trio down, the wild arm he flailed easy to spot.

“You’re right, I have some shame.” Blue eyes glared at brown while Lukas gave a small wave to the others.

“Which is a real pity too, considering what a nice-” Sharp nails dug into Jesse’s knee, scruffy jeans doing nothing to protect him, and the brunette winced as he bit back a yelp.

“Finish that sentence and you’re never getting into the same bed as me again.” The threat, coupled with the small but painful attack, was enough for Jesse to back down.

“Spoilsport.” He rubbed at his knee while Lukas greeted their friends.


	134. Illegal

Gabriel blinked as he tried to take in the information he’d been bombarded with.

Magnus had rattled off information as a hyper dog would, glint in his eyes that Gabriel knew well from their early days.

His sleep deprived mind was able to translate the chatter to: “Hey, I read about this super illegal thing and I think we should do it.”

Even though they were lucky enough as it was to not have been chased out of the little town once the truth was revealed, to have been left relatively well enough alone so they could help mentor the new order. Yes, criminal activity would surely endear them to the townsfolk.

Gabriel became more and more aware with every passing day of the ache in his bones that had not been there twenty years ago, the way exercises he had once done seamlessly now took effort; they reminded him of the now. Neither of them were as young as they used to be. They weren’t reckless adolescents with a world to conquer and unlimited tasks to try.

He looked at Magnus, at the grin that was too rigid, eyes from behind that dark mask showing more than the rogue would’ve liked, fingers digging into the wooden table.

He remembered the adventures they had gone on before, preforming multiple feats, each more outrageous than the last. The fun they had always had.

Gabriel thought of Soren, who remained missing, and Ellegaard, dead. Ivor, who was squirreled away in his new study, refusing to leave his innumerable experiments. Whether it was out of shame or something else Gabriel didn’t know.

He sighed before looking back up at his friend.

They weren’t getting any younger.

What was a little adventure?

“Very well.” The whooping response and laughter made it all worth it.


	135. Mud (Petra/Axel)

The skies were grey and overcast, the sun not peeking out once from behind the thick blanket of cotton ball clouds. It was the dreary day to top all dreary days.

There was a wind that came and went as it pleased, sharp and stinging when it did, the air muggy when it didn’t.

The new order was, to put it simply, bored out of their freakin skulls.

Until Jesse got an idea and leapt off her place on the couch where she’d been lying next to Lukas.

No one had been able to get anything out of her until they had trudged outside, where she had surprised everyone by scooping up a handful of sludge and hurling it at Petra.

Maybe mudball fights were more for kids, but that didn’t mean they weren’t enjoyable.

Same with making mudforts, which they ended up doing too.

With how humid it was, the dirt was waterlogged, and Jesse had a point. Why let it go to waste?

Without meaning to, they eventually split up into teams, because it was nice having somebody you could safely turn your back to while making ammunition.

Olivia and Jesse had a small fort, but their hits were fast and accurate. They’d eventually let Lukas, who had been fairing miserably on his own, join them, which meant it was the three of them against the good guys.

The two of which were Axel and Petra, doing more than decent damage and having a blast at it.

You couldn’t hear anything over the entire group’s laughter if you wanted to.

It began to drizzle, but no one cared. They’d been too caught up in their fun, even when it started to come down harder.

It was only when thunder boomed as lightning crackled across the sky that Axel bothered to look up, hand shielding his eyes from the rain that came down heavy and fast.

“Petra?” He wasn’t sure how she heard him over all the noise.

The two of them had splotches of mud on them, but the storm would wash them away soon enough.

“Oh no you don’t.” She grinned up at him, wet hair hanging in her eyes. The lightning flashed once more, but she didn’t seem to care. If anything, her smile got wider. “If I go down you’re coming with me! This is a mutual effort!”

He laughed in response and they got back to work, though he did occasionally glance back up every now and then, the thunder sounding like exploding TNT.

They eventually had to give into defeat when it got to the point where it was impossible to see, the world long since having gone dark, and all of them stumbled inside for hot cocoa.

Upon entering, they returned to their places on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and holding mugs filled with the sweet, warming drink.

If the redhead was leaning up against Axel, eyes closed as he had an arm around her shoulder, it wasn’t anyone’s business.


	136. Storm

In hindsight, the weather had never been predictable. If someone didn’t like it, they could wait five minutes for it to change.

It didn’t change the fact that Jesse and Lukas were both taken by surprise when, after seeming harmless for most of the day, the big puffy clouds above that had innocently slunk into view over the course of a few warm hours became dark, noticeably blackening while the wind turned crisp and sharp.

Now, a storm of any kind was not desirable while hiking, but never mind a thunderstorm in the mountains. Only those with too much on their minds and little in their brains, or those so furious that the universe that they couldn’t care, would dare be so high in such weather.

The chances of being struck by lightning were not in their favor if they didn’t skedaddle fast.

For context, which would not better their predicament in any way, but perhaps could provide for a better understanding of how they had gotten there and why they had yet to beat it, the woods had always been a strange, almost magical place.

At least for Lukas.

Not so for Jesse, who had lived there for as long as the blond could remember. Indeed, the brunette seemed to hold and breathe the exact life the forest contained, the same sort of mysticality in his sable eyes.

He knew his way around the woodland like someone would their well-worn childhood home.

It wasn’t as if there was a small patch of trees surrounded by large towns and cities either.

It was more that there was the little village Lukas had lived in for most of his life, and the sprawling greenwood that encased it.

And Jesse, a strange boy who popped in with his friends every year for the annual building competition, only to leave in defeat each time.

One noticeable thing about him, though how much it had to do with his strange upbringing and how much of it was luck Lukas couldn’t say, was his ability to predict the weather of the area.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he was right nine times out of ten.

And Lukas -he berated himself up for it as he now stood in the raging storm- had thought Jesse was using that as a way to dodge yet another outing.

He had not roared with laughter, but he had chuckled at the idea that such a lovely day would go horribly so quickly. It had been a week of fairly good weather too, little to no cloud cover with gentle breezes mixed in for good measure.

It was a likewise gorgeous day, and, Lukas wouldn’t hesitate to admit, he was afraid.

Jesse retreated into their new fortress, into himself, more often than not. And everyone had their off days, Lukas understood that, but Jesse and he had been planning this little trip for over a week, and every day it was pushed back. Not out of any real emergences, save the one debacle with the enchanted Ghast, but by excuses a toddler would be able tell were fake.

It would still have been pushed off if it weren’t for whatever Axel and Olivia, both also people familiar with the woods who seemed to think the conditions would take some nasty turns later, had said to Jesse.

After talking to them, the brunette had stridden up to Lukas with a toothy smile and a recognizable pep to his walk.

And off they’d gone. Only them, as their friends all had other plans.

They had trekked, talking about everything and nothing, as the beautiful hues of early morning had slowly turned into the magnificent glow of noon, sunlight filtering between bright jade leaves onto soft grassy ground.

They’d passed winding creeks, small golden and copper colored fish swimming about within, and lush meadows, home to more rabbits and livestock than should’ve been possible. Patches of flowers were surrounded by twisting vines that were harmlessly spread about the ground and the lower branches of sturdy oaks.

Ever so slowly, they’d ascended uphill all throughout, the ground slanted slightly.

The duo had paused for lunch, and Mother Nature had decided to strike with a furious vengeance.

As if out of a nightmare, bright bolts of energy and flashes of light struck the ground while the great twisting mass above only became more and more grotesque as the mind shaped its form.

Lukas wasn’t imagining the purple tint, there naturally but only heightening the problem.

His hair blew wildly as the fierce gusts pulled it this way and that, making it all the harder to see

But he knew Jesse was on the ground, because the other man hadn’t moved since it had started.

The next few minutes were rushed, as was his thinking.

Lukas wasn’t even sure he was thinking anymore.

He’d picked Jesse up, who was surprisingly light, and he’d rushed to find shelter. They were going to visit a cave Jesse had talked about, one he’d liked that was nearby-

But where?

Shelter, they needed shelter, he’d dig into the side of the mountain if he had to.

Waterlogged boots stomped through coarse dirt and were repeatedly yanked out of the mud, Lukas’s eyes squinting from behind his goggles as he tried to see past trees that swayed dangerously, the branches groaning and creaking as they did.

Behind him, the shrubs they had been beside burned, the spittle of the rain doing little to put the flames out.

Eventually, after far too long for either of their liking, Lukas spotted- someplace.

He trudged inside the cave, small but easily able to protect them from the elements until things died down.

Lukas didn’t know if this was the one Jesse had been talking about –doubted it really, considering how insignificant it was- but it would do.

There were mosses and lichen on the floor and walls, slowly creeping up to the ceiling.

He set Jesse, whose fingers remained clenching his own arms with a grip that looked like that of a vise, down, with his back gently hitting the bumpy rock wall behind him.

Neither said anything for a minute.

And, bit by bit, Lukas became aware of a whisper, a rush of words on repeat.

“Knew it, knew it, knew it. Stupid stupid stupid.” His mutters were hasty and Lukas frowned as he made them out.

“Then why did y-” His stomach twisted. Because Lukas had pushed him. Jesse already knew that, there was no need for Lukas to rub it in further. He chose, in a way that had about as much tact as a glowing pig sliding on grease, to let the question trail off awkwardly.

“Axel and Olivia, they- they reminded me that you didn’t do this often. Told me they were worried. Mostly ‘bout me, but also about you. You’d get lost, alone and stuck in this. I thought-” Jesse paused for a bitter giggle, and it was definitely high enough to be considered a giggle, on the verge of sounding hysterical. “I thought I could help you. Protect you.”

“Jesse-” Eyes snapped from staring outside to boring holes into him.

“Look at you. Hauled my rear to safety. You’d have been fine. _I’m_ the one who needs help.” His voice was near toxic, his words so acidic they could tear away at stone.

“Jesse.” Lukas leaned back against his “side” of the small cavern. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of storms.”

“When we were little, we’d play in the rain. I used to joke that thunder was a giant’s snoring.” Jesse was looking down at his shaking hands, jaw set and brow furrowed. “I was braver as a little kid. Why am I such a coward?”

Enough was enough.

“Jesse. I want you to listen to me. Everybody’s afraid of something. Aiden? Wolves scare the pants off of him. Gill doesn’t like water. Maya can’t stand bugs.” Lukas smiled, a hand on his friend’s trembling shoulder. “You already know how much of a chicken I am. You hardly have to explain freezing up to me.”

“Lukas…” It was a sincere grin, one that met Jesse’s eyes. Soon he stopped quivering.

Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be. They waited the storm out, Jesse eventually moving so that he was beside Lukas, both with an arm looping around the other.

Jesse’s head, his curly hair wet and matted, rested against Lukas’s shoulder.

There was nothing wrong with waiting.


	137. Effects

Now, maybe it’s not that big a deal. It certainly isn’t surprising, looking back on it.

After all, when they were trying to defeat the Witherstorms, there was very little normal talking and conversation. Most of it was panicked yelling, or whispers that perhaps weren’t as quiet as they should’ve been.

And Jesse’s always been an energetic person, often using her hands as she speaks. It’s not as if it’s hard for her to get her point across, and she’s likewise always been good at reading body language.

But Olivia feels these are defenses and justifications, poor attempts at covering up her own negligence.

Olivia doesn’t pride herself on much, but she likes to think she has decent intelligence.

So why did it take so long to figure out?

It’s been over a month since they’ve become heroes, and maybe that’s part of it. They’ve been so busy getting used to the fame and the rush and for everything to die down-

Excuses, excuses.

Jesse’d been near an explosion of _super TNT_ , something they thought could’ve killed anyone, and Olivia had been too relieved that Jesse was alive to think of any other side effects.

And it’s far, far too late- Healing potions are tricky like that, they really only work on wounds that actively bleed or recent injuries. A month old won’t cut it.

It doesn’t change the fact that it took more than four weeks and a few botched conversations for Olivia to notice something.

And Jesse, bless her, is so unbelievably innocent and sweet. She swears up, down, left, and right that she had no idea.

So if she wasn’t trying to hide it, and if they’ve had plenty of time, why did it take until now to figure out that one of her best friends is partially deaf?


	138. Apocalypse

"Hey buddy, how've you been? Heh, probably a lot better than we are down here..." Jesse closed his eyes as he sat down on the warm steps. “Lot’s happened since the last time we talked.”

He paused, taking in a few raspy breaths. Tried to imagine the moaning he heard outside was his imagination.

They’d be breaking down the walls any minute now.

“We haven’t had contact with anyone in more than month.” The streets were barren, no sounds save for the whistling of the wind – _and the moaning of those outside_. “Gabriel and Ellegaard tried, but they haven’t returned. Don’t know if they even made it out.”

If they had, Jesse didn’t know why they hadn’t come back. Why nobody had.

“Reuben? Remember how we were gonna become somebodies, you, me, Axel, and Olivia? How everything’d be easier, we’d know what to do?” The sun was high in the sky, and the grass below was lush. It was splendid weather that could’ve tricked him into thinking things were going to be okay. Could’ve, that is, if he didn’t know better. “It’s only gotten harder. I don’t think I could take down a zombie if I wanted to.”

No one could.

They were abnormally large, fast, and strong now. No one knew why.

“Axel’s- Well, he’s not dead. Gotta count for something.” The explosives accident- It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. It shouldn’t have done so much damage. But it had and it did.

You’d never know that the mass of bandages was even alive if it weren’t for the occasional rough breath. The few patches of flesh visible were scarlet in color and twisted, scarred, blotches of lurid waxen skin mixed in.

It’d been weeks since the accident, and still nothing. Axel hadn’t been conscious since.

“Haven’t seen Petra since she took that trip to the Nether. I told you about that last time, didn’t I? She hasn’t been back yet.” The redhead had wanted to pick up some quartz; she insisted she’d be back before the day was over. She was wrong. “Sent a scout two weeks ago- back when we had those, you know- and all we found left of him was his head. Had to block off the portal; Pigmen kept swarming it.”

“I haven’t seen Lukas since then either, but I’m sure he’s fine. Probably nice and safe in some town.” _Coward_. Jesse ignored the bitter taste in his mouth.

Better cowardly and alive than brave and dead.

“Olivia’s sick.” It wasn’t something small. The inventor was bedridden, delirious. She looked like hell and, from what Jesse understood, felt like it. “She’s- she’s not responding well to the potions they’re giving her. Ivor says he’s never seen it before. It’s not just her either; everybody seems to be catching it.”

“I’m not feeling too good myself, but-” Jesse paused to cough, finishing it with a sniffle and a weak chuckle. “No one is.”

He wasn’t ignoring the red crimson speckles on his dark skin-

He was used to it by now.

The fortifications, which had been built in a hurry with sloppy material to begin with, groaned again.

“I might be seeing you real soon, pal.”


	139. Present

Lukas sat cross legged on the ground, eyes shut and hands folded in his lap.

Jesse had led him out to a small verdant field, right beside a little pond, before insisting he close his eyes for her surprise for him.

This was where they had target practice. What was here for her to show him?

“Lukas, I mean it, keep ‘em closed.” There was a slight giggle and the rustling got louder. It was incredibly tempting to open his eyes, which, in the bright sunlight, were hard to keep shut in the first place.

“Jesse…” It didn’t help that Jesse was well known for her pranks. He half had the feeling that he’d be greeted with a mud pie to the face.

Not the worst, close, but not exactly what he hoped his birthday gift would be.

"Okay, are you ready for your present? No peeking!... Ok, you can open your eyes now!” Lukas’s eyes darted wildly about as he opened them, looking for whatever it was- Only to find it a few inches in front of his face. He froze, eyes widening and heart stopping. “Tah-dah! A baby ocelot, just like the one on your jacket! I was thinking his name could be Ollie, but it's up to y- a-are you _crying_?"

Lukas brought his hands up to his face, both covering his mouth as he tried to remember to breathe.

In Jesse’s outstretched hands, miniscule feet dangling, was a ball of spotted fluff with enormous hazel eyes.

To add to it, it let out the tiniest, most high-pitched mew he had ever heard.

“Would you like to hold him?” Jesse had an eyebrow raised and was smiling in a way that didn’t meet panicked eyes.

Lukas realized his eyes were wet for a reason, and that there were a few tears already trailing down his face.

“Wha-Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah.” He quickly rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, the other one cautiously nearing the head of the adorable kitten.

It purred, leaning into his touch.

“This- This is- I don’t even know what to say.” Lukas chuckled, shakily, and carefully tried to hold the ocelot in his cupped hands as Jesse let go. It was so small, so vulnerable. Lukas would be as cautious as humanly possible. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“I- Uh, I’m glad you like him so much.” Jesse tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before scratching the back of her neck. “Really, wasn’t expecting that- er, that reaction.”

Her behavior was ignored in favor of turning into a puddle of goo thanks to the fluffy lump he was holding.

“Ollie. How do you like that, Ollie?” The little ocelot mewed again, and Lukas slowly stroked his fur.

He was the best birthday present Lukas could remember ever being given.

“Ollie” quickly became a part of everyday life for the new order. The tiny rascal was always underfoot, and yet somehow never got hurt because of it. He found his way on top of machines far bigger than him –which gave both Olivia and Lukas plenty of near heart attacks-, behind or even inside clothed armor stands –Jesse found it funnier than Petra, but neither truly minded once they learned to check inside before practicing-, inside a certain griefer’s hood –Axel was only startled by him the first time-, and, naturally, all over Lukas.

Over time, he got faster and bigger, but it only really caught up with Lukas when Ollie attempted to fall asleep on the builder, as he was prone to doing, and was too big to do more than curl up.


	140. Gore

Petra wiped the gunk off of her face and then rubbed her hand with a handkerchief.

Jesse, usually so expressive, had yet to say anything.

“So, how do you feel?” She turned to her companion, who looked like she hadn’t moved since the pest had been stabbed.

“Blood. Blood everywhere.” Petra finished cleaning off the ends of her pick, eyes keeping watch of the entrance. She’d thought that was the last of them, but there would always be more.

“Yes, that happens when you get in a fight.” There was rattling at the end of the hallway from a figure the torchlight didn’t reach. However, after a moment, hard clacks could be heard, the skeleton moving away. They were lucky the terrors were so stupid. “Come on Jesse, you’ve killed monsters before.”

“But they didn’t do _that_.” There was a tremble in Jesse’s voice, her breathing rushed.

“Yeah, well, okay. Cave spiders might be smaller than regular spiders, but they have more blood.” They did also have the tendency to “pop” when they died, like bloated silverfish; the results were that of a water balloon hitting the ground. A large, jam filled water balloon.

“A lot. A lot more.” Savior of the world and still weak stomached.

“At least it’s not red.” The teal colored muck’s smell and texture was another matter.

Petra was used to it due to previous experiences, not that she enjoyed the puke like sludge any more now than she had the first time she’d dealt with it. However, Jesse was unsteadily leaning up against the wall, looking ready to double over any second.

In fact-

“ _Eurgh_.” Yup. The redhead winced, pausing before pocketing the frayed and filthy cloth.

“There there.” Petra sighed as she gave Jesse a pat on the back. “Let it all out.”

Couldn’t be worse than the spider blood, at least.


	141. Naming

The tides grew stronger, waves pushing up against the sturdy dock. A salty spray had invaded Jesse’s nose, the cries of seagulls in his ears.

The urge to jump in and begin rowing was strong.

A small trip across the ocean, simply for exploration purposes, was all he wanted.

Getting to this point hadn’t been a problem. They’d built their own boat and oars and the weather was the best it was going to get.

“Hmm… No, no that won’t work either.” The indecisive blond with a paintbrush was the issue. “Sorry Jesse.”

The brunette, sitting on the wooden platform and leaning against a pole, bit back a sigh and covered his face with a hand.

“Just pick a damn name, okay?”                                                   

Who could have guessed that Lukas was the type to name his boat?


	142. Party

Lukas, glass of water in his hand, leaned back in his chair as the party got into full swing.

Multicolored paper lanterns, strung haphazardly from tree to tree, lit up the area nicely. Some giggling kids had let loose a jar full of fireflies, which were currently either taking to the air or weaving between the blades of overgrown grass.

It wasn’t an official bash, those more often than not took place within the town, so much as it was some people and their friends enjoying a warm summer night.

The starting fireworks were finished, the last of a creeper head fizzling out above the clearing; there wouldn’t be more until much later.

While Lukas couldn’t recognize the song –music discs were never really his thing- it was nice enough, upbeat and catchy.

Certainly got plenty of people moving.

Dogs frolicked a ways over, playing with little children and piling on top of one another.

And people were keeping a watchful eye out. No monsters were going to crash this party.

Lukas turned his head back towards the main crowd, jolting slightly when he found Jesse standing in front of him.

There were beads of sweat on her forehead, her long raven hair tousled. She was holding out a hand, smiling even as she panted.

“Wanna dance?” Lukas barely had time to respond before she took his arm and yanked him to his feet.

They danced for over an hour until the finishing fireworks accidentally went off early, one chasing a hapless Aiden who it “mysteriously” was aimed at.

The grin didn’t leave Axel’s face for the rest of the night.


	143. Faint

Petra paused, stilling the sword in her hand as Lukas moaned.

She turned to the blond, who was propped up against the quartz wall. Blue eyes squinted in the face of bright sunlight that easily passed through the large glass window.

“Mm… What happened?” He stretched, blinking slowly.

"You fainted... Straight into my arms." It had given her a bit of a surprise when the builder had more or less passed out and fallen into her. “When was the last time you slept? You look awful, Lukas.”

There were dark, heavy bags under eyes that hadn’t focused completely yet. His face was unusually pale, and his movements had been slower lately. His usually perfect hair, which he took care of with an odd vigor, was mussed.

“Don’t sugarcoat it.” Lukas groused as he stood up, walking as if his legs were made of lead.

Petra shrugged as he almost stumbled into and over her armor, piled up neatly on the floor.

“Sorry, but you do.” He did not walk away back to his workshop or his room, as she expected. Instead he sat down beside her, the black leather of his jacket hot against her bare arm.

“A day or two, something like that.” Lukas leaned into her, his words slurring as he mumbled. “I’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say.” Lukas was a grown man. Whatever he did was his responsibility, and if he wanted this, who was Petra to get in the way?

She’d step in if he kept it up much longer, but Lukas was reasonable. Not to mention drowsy.

Petra continued sharpening her sword, focusing on the rhythmical back and forth of diamond blade to oiled whetstone.

It wasn’t until she heard a light snore that she realized it had been enough to rock Lukas to sleep.


	144. Soar

The journal was snapped shut, dark purple ink already given time to dry on faded paper, as Ivor set the flask down.

The green concoction inside would bubble for about an hour, and there was nothing he could do but let it sit until then.

For now, he planned to get some lunch and to pour over his books. This new mix could’ve been the first of many, if all went well.

As he walked out of his laboratory, books under his arm, Jesse rushed by him, entering the room.

Ivor thought nothing of it. He had made it clear before that any of the potions he brewed, save for his exploratory mixtures, were free for all of them to take.

He simply would not be responsible for the trouble they got themselves into with said potions.

“Ivor? I’m going to owe you a potion of luck after this.”  Jesse called back to him, voice carrying easily with the door open.

“Potion of…?” Ivor’s brow furrowed, until he snapped around and his eyes widened. "Wait! No you fool _, don’t drink that_! _That’s not a potion of luck; it’s my experiment_!"

Naturally, it was too little, too late. Jesse’s head was already tilted back, the translucent container at her lips.

It was in slow motion that he saw her fall and the glass shatter as it hit the ground.

* * *

 

There was a bright light beating down on her closed eyelids, her ears picking up mutters, grumbles, and hushed whisper shouting. Jesse wondered what hit her as the world began to fall into place.

Everything was fuzzy, giant blurs of shapes and hues gradually becoming clearer as Jesse blinked rapidly.

The entire area was made of quartz, with a few large clear windows. She was lying on her side, in a clean bed on crisp sheets. Her friends, as well as the remaining members of the old order, sat beside her in chairs.

Jesse noted they were rather close, and had gotten unusually quiet.

Ivor entered, bottle of water in hand and a scowl on his face.

She recognized the room as the infirmary of the new order’s temple, used only for emergencies. They had to utilize it once so far.

Erm, twice now.

Whatever she had drunken was strong, there was no doubt about that.

At first, she’d thought that was natural for the potion, she hadn’t actually had a luck potion before, even if she’d seen images of it many times and heard plenty about them in the past. 

When Jesse’s throat had burned and the room dimmed, Ivor’s unexpected shouting muffled, she’d thought maybe something was wrong.

Whatever had happened, it was her own fault, she was sure.

Jesse and Petra were going to explore a jungle temple the trader had found, and, while they didn’t _need_ any potions, a little bit of luck couldn’t hurt.

Well, stuff that wasn’t luck could. A lot. And it hadn’t completely faded yet, which was worrying.

There was something wrong, an odd sensation near her spine that both itched and ached.

Jesse stretched and twisted to look behind her, one of her hands reaching back.

It wasn’t that she ignored her friends’ warnings; it was more that the jumbled protests came a bit too late for her foggy mind to catch up.

“Uh Jesse-”

“No no no, you’re not-”

“I wouldn’t if I were you, kid-”

“Perhaps it’s best-”

“Maybe you shouldn’t-”

There were two autumn colored _somethings_ attached to her back.

As she finished stretching, they twitched, the two fiery “plates” beating once.

Jesse wondered if she was hallucinating.

They moved again.

Hesitantly, a shaky hand reached back and pinched the bright orange edge of the nearest one.

And she _felt_ it, faintly, as if someone was poking her.

Any thoughts Jesse had, as well as her brain, stopped, slowly unfreezing as she numbly listened to Ivor’s explanation.

The words that stuck with her most were “accident”, “unfinished”, and “permanent”.

 _Permanent_.

* * *

 

 Now, in all honesty, having wings wasn’t half bad. Jesse had always liked the idea of flying, even if heights hadn’t been her thing when she was younger. To have the ability to glide through the air and control her own movement? It was practically a dream come true.

Like every dream, though, it had its costs, its ups and downs.

She found herself studying them a lot, or as best she could when they were behind her all the time.

They were like a beetle’s, but instead of each being one long glassy piece, they were made up of multiple scales and blazing colors.

As solid as obsidian, from what she could tell, though they did “molt” like bird feathers, which was more painful than she’d been expecting.

Armor, at first, was an issue. It was made with normal people in mind, as in people who didn’t have giant bug wings. Eventually, they had figured out how to craft armor Jesse could fly in, but it took a good many tries.

Axel couldn’t really use short jokes when she only had to fly a little to be higher up than him, but then there were plenty of benign bug puns.

Jesse wasn’t the most graceful of people to begin with, but the new weight on her back made balancing harder, never mind sneaking.

Not that she needed that advantage when she could fly when fighting now, but it was frustrating.

Sleeping on her back was impossible, never mind excruciating.

It was an experience…

One she’d come to both love and feel fond annoyance over.


	145. Drunk (Jesse/Axel)

Settling in swamps was unwise. It was thought that anyone who dared do so was suicidal, and had only themselves to blame for the inevitable deaths that would follow.

However, it was cause for concern when a settlement over a day’s travel from the nearest marsh began to be attacked by inhabitants of said bog, seemingly immune to sunlight and arrows.

The order had had a bit of a struggle concerning the odd creatures, which in the end had turned out to be under the control of an unusually powerful enchanter, but they won.

For the record, witches were sneaky and nasty no matter the wetland they hailed from, except for the few that seemed even trickier. The packs of slimes hadn’t been much fun either, but they fell easily enough in the end. Jesse’s major gripe was all the spiders that seemed hell-bent on attacking no matter the conditions or time of day. When all was said and done, though, it didn’t matter.

The little town, small buildings and houses standing out amongst barren grassland, insisted on celebrating their heroes.

They were given a free night’s stay in the local inn, rooms for all of them, as well as seats of honor at the celebration to be held that night.

Somehow Jesse imagined the chance for the residents to let loose themselves in some revelry didn’t hurt the decision.

The inn was packed, someone constantly going up and down the well-worn wooden stairs.

It wasn’t a formal party by any means, but not rowdy either. There were a few undeniable drunks a floor below who were beginning to raise their voices, but most were dancing along to some fast paced songs or chatting with their friends.

Jesse himself had been talking to Petra for over an hour, until the redhead had decided to chat with a trader whose deals had caught her attention.

His position was with his back turned to most of the merrymakers, his eyelids heavy as he finished he drink.

A large hand clasped his shoulder, and if Jesse hadn’t been able to hear the familiar plodding gait that approached, he surely would’ve jumped.

Lucky for him, he knew it quite well.

He smiled as he turned around, eyebrows rising at the sight before him.

“You’re surprisingly drunk already.”

It wasn’t easy to get a guy like Axel intoxicated. His size alone helped, and he had a strong tolerance for the stuff. Jesse had seen him tipsy a few times, but it was incredibly rare that he was actually sozzled.

Not that there was any doubt in his mind that that was what Axel was.

The bigger man had a lopsided grin on his face and was leaning heavily on the wall, his hand not giving as much support as his shoulder. How he had made it up the stairs, Jesse would never know.

Never mind the alcohol on his breath.

“They’ve got some great stuff, really good.” The hand absently went from Jesse’s shoulder to the back of his neck, coarse knuckles brushing up against his skin. Definitely drunk.

“What say we head to bed?” What they both needed, and Jesse knew he wanted, was rest.

Getting through the crowd proved not to be a problem, with only one close call involving a low hanging light. The room they entered was Jesse’s, on the second floor itself and closer.

The bed was larger than average, though Jesse knew it to be the case for all their rooms. There had been few things kept from them; they were in the lap of luxury, or as close to it as a simple village could give.

The two more or less collapsed onto the fluffy mattress, one arm softly wrapped around Jesse and resting on his side.

He easily slipped into sleep, gunpowder and earthy scents invading both his nose and his mind.


	146. Attempt

Gabriel used a hand to shield his eyes as he gazed skywards, not a single cloud in sight amongst the vast bright blue.

They had not ceased in their riding since they had departed; only stopping for a short period now to allow the horses some rest and water.

The end of the world, as he understood it, was indeed a worrying thing.

Their haste was therefore reasonable.

However, the pause did give him a chance to enact the plan that had been brewing within his mind.

Gabriel turned, immediately spotting his target, busy away from the group tending to the steed he had ridden.

Ivor had seemed to have been avoiding them all as best he could while still riding on the same mount as Soren, Gabriel in particular.

It had been confusing for him, at first, but so had everything else. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy Ivor’s company. The man’s quick responses and dry wit were amusing, not to mention familiar. There was something about Ivor, similar to Soren and Ellegaard, that caused Gabriel to feel as if he were safe. It made him feel as if his memories were within reach, though he could never grasp them.

He also apparently had great experience when it came to potions. If anyone could help him, Gabriel was certain it was Ivor.

His approach did not go unnoticed, his boots clacking against hardened clay.

“Yes?” Ivor turned from the mare, letting her reins drop as the creature continued to drink out of the river.

“I was wondering if you could help me regain my memory.” The other man raised a single eyebrow, and Gabriel continued. “I have heard a good deal about your abilities. Perhaps a tonic of yours could help?”

“I could try.” Ivor scoffed as he crossed his arms. “I promise nothing.”

Gabriel shrugged, unconcerned. Trying, even if they did not succeed, was better than not doing so at all.

“Simply you attempting would be much appreciated.” There was a pause before Ivor opened a saddlebag and began looking through the innumerable items within.

His concoction did not long at all to make, though time was of the essence.

The few brief minutes spent waiting, supposedly for the mixture to stop bubbling, did not escape their companions.

Not a second passed when one of the four were not glaring at Ivor; however, a quick explanation given to Soren did allow them to continue with the experiment without any more outside interruption.

“Why do they give you such looks?” Gabriel sat cross legged on the ground beside the potioneer,

“I believe they fear I will poison their precious warrior.” Ivor did not halt in his stirring, purple liquid moving slowly, like sludge.

Gabriel cocked his head.

“Would you?” He was honestly curious.

Ivor’s response took longer, the man staring at Gabriel with an unreadable expression on his face for several seconds before shaking his head.

“No.” Gabriel wondered if Ivor had noticed his grip on the flask tightening, so much so that his knuckles were ashen grey. “No, of course not.”

They said nothing more until the completion, at which point their horses seemed ready to travel again.

"You should know that the side effects, well... They're pretty intense." Ivor handed the blend over, a hand behind his back.

“Thank you for the warning.” Gabriel moved the bottle to his lips, ignoring the pungent smell.

He immediately fell to his knees, trying to cover his coughs with a hand. His remaining one waved off the concerned outcries of the others, not feeling damaged so much as disoriented. Closing his eyes did little to help the sensation, and when he looked up, troubled faces all looked back.

“Anything?”

“I- No, I believe not.” There were various groans and Gabriel unsteadily tried to stand. “Perhaps it will take- *ahem*, take a while to truly take affect?”

“Possibly.” They returned to their long journey, the dratted fog that clouded his mind refusing to leave.


	147. Cheating (Ellegaard/Magnus) (Ivor/Magnus)

“I don’t want you talking to him again.” Ellegaard hisses as she stands up, the conversation continuing to go in circles.

“Kinda hard to do that when we live in the same building.” Magnus lights a cigarette, the snark falling easily out of his mouth as he leans back.

Avoiding the subject, as always. Ellegaard glares both at him and the awful cancer stick.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

That idiotic mask is on, and her fingers curl into fists. He used to never wear it when it was only the two of them. Now he never takes it off around her.

“Do I? Because I’m pretty damn sure you just told me to stop talking to one of our best friends.”

“Awful touchy with him, aren’t you?”

“So I can’t be friendly?” Yes, Magnus is a hands-on type, but even he has limits. He’s not Soren, who spreads affection everywhere and freely.

He can’t begin to use it as an excuse and he knows it.

“So that’s what the kisses were? ‘Friendly’?” He looked away.

Check mate.

“Look, if you’re going to cheat on me, let’s do ourselves a favor and end this.” She crosses her arms, not feeling as satisfied as she’s supposed to.

She’s mostly tired.

“You mean break up?” Magnus doesn’t bother to deny it. “Ellie-”

“I mean it, Magnus.” He gets up abruptly and storms to the door, and Ellegaard can’t believe he’s not even going to try.

“Whatever.” The door’s slammed shut, Magnus stomping down the stairs not a second later.

Ellegaard stands there, fuming but with no target.

Who did he think he was?

 _She’s_ the one who he’s been cheating on; _she’s_ the one who should be walking out in a huff.

He’s probably with Ivor right now, but Ellegaard can’t muster up any anger towards the enchanter. Her rage at Magnus is starting to slip away as it is, leaving her empty.

Typical Magnus, constantly thinking about himself.


	148. Theirs (Petra/Jesse/Lukas)

Aiden was incredibly lucky looks couldn’t kill.

Petra continued to glare holes into him anyway, because trying couldn’t hurt.

"Did he just make a pass at you?" The redhead’s hand sought out her pick before her brain could begin to catch up.

It had been the most disgraceful display she’d seen in a long while too, bungled with sloppy slurring and undisguised leering. Jesse deserved far better than to be treated like another pretty face or some chunk of meat. He’d known he’d messed up too, slinking away quickly. As if that would save him.

Petra had spent over a month away from Luks and Jesse, busy working both on deals and finding out information on the latest “interesting” activity far up north. She’d spent numerous nights alone, which Petra had been all too used to before. It wasn’t a pleasant surprise to find that she wasn’t anymore.

She’d missed their scents, the warmth of their bodies next to hers, their voices and quirks, every bit of them –and she had worried, in the dark of night as cold wind nipped her skin, that they would realize they didn’t need her, not like she needed them- to come back to _this_?

No thank you.

Honestly, as nice as everything was, she wanted time alone with Lukas and Jesse. She’d already caught up with her other friends, and this little festival was nothing new; it was summer, they had one every few weeks.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit that one of her top priorities was going over every bit of their bodies again, memorizing all the nicks and grooves once more. Skin against skin, both calloused and smooth.

That wasn’t something an asshole like Aiden was going to ruin.

Lukas grabbed Petra’s arm before she could stand, his lips thin as they formed a tight smile. She reluctantly let her tool go back to resting up against the oak table, sure to let it hit with a thunk as she scowled at Aiden, nodding slightly to let the blond know she was listening.

“Aiden- I’m sure it’s the beer.” There was a growl in his voice, low and subtle, one both she and Jesse noticed. “He knows better.”

And that was something Petra would always respect about Lukas. As nice as he was, he could take charge.

Because Jesse?

She was theirs, and they were hers. They were each other’s, and they knew how to protect what belonged to them.


	149. Awkward

Gill was not a wishy washy man. If he said something, he meant it. He stuck firmly with his opinions until they were proven to be harmful or simply wrong. He was stubborn, and not without his pride.

But he wasn’t an asshole. 

The whole thing with Jesse’s group- It had started as teasing and bickering, childhood grudges shaping a sort of tradition that became too habitual to drop.

They never hurt anyone with their comments or jeers; it was all in good fun.

Aiden may have taken it too seriously at times, but he was hotheaded.

Now, looking back on it, it became painfully clear where they had crossed the line from ribbing to emotionally scarring, and the effects of such on their “rivals”.

Gill wasn’t too happy with himself that this revelation hadn’t come until the end of the world, but it was better late than never.

Barely.

Honestly, they all should’ve known better, acted like adults and not like kids.

The people they picked on had become the new Order of the Stone and had saved the world, and, while they had pitched in somewhat at the end, there wasn’t any room to say sorry.

Gill was at the point where he knew what he had done was wrong, but apologizing now would seem like groveling.

As if he hadn’t learned anything, but was rather trying to get into the new order’s good graces.

That wasn’t what he wanted. Wasn’t what any of them wanted, so he had stuck to staying out of the way and to minding his own business.

After all, they had gone and helped when Lukas had asked them to.

How could they not? They’d do anything he asked.

Which was why Gill was there now, smiling at the armor clad woman beside him.

Really, Lukas asking was the only way any of them could make amends without seeming like total douchebags.

It didn’t make it any less awkward. All the same, he could at least look her in the eye now.

Small talk wasn’t easy.

All of Jesse’s friends hated him, and he’d pestered them multiple times in the past.

As for his own friends?

 _“Let me tell you about people you probably hate and who tormented you at every chance we got.”_ Nope.

But they could talk about Lukas.

The barrier between them began to slowly pick away.

“He did what?” No wonder the blond had been avoiding him. Gill would have had him confined to his bed if he’d known.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it took to actually get him to tell us.”

“He said it was because of a blaze!” Lukas had also claimed that he was needed at the new order’s temple, when apparently that was a lie too. “And I trusted him. That sneaky…”

“Yeah, Petra wasn’t too happy either. Axel seemed to think it was sort of funny, though-”

And Jesse cut herself off midsentence.

Gill looked over at her, having gone quiet himself as soon as her other companions were mentioned.

Ah well, step in the right direction.


	150. Possessive (Jesse/Magnus)

It wasn’t a good idea to piss off a griefer with a known lack of self-control.

“What’s wrong?” It didn’t help that Jesse seemed oblivious to the whole thing. He was endearingly trusting, as proven by his relationship with the demolitions expert, but this was ridiculous.

“He was flirting with you.” The man in question was busy with his blueprints at the moment, glancing over their way every few seconds. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

“What?” The brunette shook his head, his eyebrows drawn together. “No, Lukas is like that; he’s friendly.”

“Friendly” his ass. The blond had used a freakin pick up line, cringey as all get out, and then had tried to laugh it off.

Now, there was a chance the kid was denser than he looked. Magnus knew he and Jesse weren’t exactly obvious about it, but they weren’t restrained either.

Maybe they needed to make things more evident.

The griefer grinned as he brought a hand up to the side of Jesse’s face and gave a quick peck on the cheek, making sure he was looking Lukas in the eye as he did.

“Magnus?” Jesse didn’t move, but damn if he didn’t look confused. Full on deer in the torchlight, flustered easily.

Beginner’s stuff. Magnus could do better.

So he did. His hand began messing with Jesse’s soft hair as the kisses started trailing down the side of his face and neck.

“Relax, short stuff. Just making sure he knows.” It was a low whisper, barely making it past lips that were a _little_ _bit_ occupied at the moment.

Watching Jesse’s face go red as his hand slipped a tad lower was simply a bonus.

Hearing the door click shut and the quiet steps down the stairs that followed was almost as good.


	151. Belong (Ivor/Soren)

The other order members- Perhaps they don’t know, or simply don’t care, but they’ve said nothing. They smile at him like always, ignore the elephant in the room whenever Ivor tries to bring it up.

That last bit is more because of the architect who has such impeccable timing, showing up before anything can be said each time the topic reappears.

Fingers tighten around his wrist as the other man’s face is shoved into his own, their noses practically touching.

"You're mine. You hear me?” Words that before would’ve been comforting. That would’ve made him feel as if he belonged, as if someone loved him.

Now they sound desperate. Soren’s never been one for taking control, but because he did his whole world’s crashing down.

And Ivor can’t muster up any sympathy for the redhead. Not now, not when he appears frantic enough to do anything, a gleam in his eye that seems so unlike him.

Days of back and forth, of this. Days of watching their relationship crumble away into nothing, of watching Soren turn into someone unrecognizable, of Soren constantly reminding him of every single thing he’s ever done for the potioneer, of what Ivor’ll be destroying.

And there’s only one silver lining Ivor’s been able to find, the one good thing Soren’s done for him lately.

There’s nothing left for him to do away with.

“I don’t belong to you.” Ivor snarls as he snatches his hand away, Soren flinching back. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

He storms out of the room, refusing to look back as his pace continues to quicken. Soren doesn’t follow. They discuss his terms for departure the following morning, bags under both of their eyes and no one else present.

Ivor leaves the next night, and he doesn’t see his friends again for years.

He’s his own person, and he’s never been more miserable.


	152. Transparent

It was a clear night, nothing blocking the stars and the moon from view. In the distance, a wolf’s cry pierced through the air. No matter how much it howled, nothing answered. It remained alone.

Ellegaard felt very much the same.

She walked down one of the upper balconies of the new order’s temple, though truly it was more of a hallway with no ceiling.

The whole building’s architecture was impressive; reminding her of something Soren would’ve built back in the day.

Perhaps it was more practical. The builder had always enjoyed implementing things simply because they appeared cool; Lukas, on the other hand, seemed to be a big believer of pragmatism.

There she was, trying to tie the new order to the old. Crafting similarities that weren’t there, or were accentuated by a desperate mind.

Their time in the spotlight was over; had been for quite a while, when she looked back on it. She had to accept that.

Ivor and Gabriel were busy, currently out and a few towns over, doing their best to help the residents there that had been affected by the Witherstorms. Ellegaard would have joined them, but had been busy with an invention when they had departed.

As she stared up at the sky, a nasty reminder of her loneliness, she wished she had gone with anyhow. The invention was more to keep herself busy, to make it give the impression that she still contributed.

The new order didn’t need a has-been such as herself, a fraud who offered little.

A silver figure went by out of the corner of her vision and Ellegaard’s head snapped around, hands searching for a weapon. All she had on her was her wrench, which would do little if it was indeed a sneaky monster that had managed to get up the barricade.

She crept forward, holding her breath as she looked around the wall.

Her wrench hit the ground, and Ellegaard didn’t know how long her mouth hung open.

A faded, transparent version of her dead best friend continued to stroll noiselessly.

It was only when he turned another corner that she began to move again.

Her boots clacked loudly against the polished ground as she ran, no fathomable idea of how it was possible.

Ellegaard caught sight of him up against a pillar, grey and hazy, paler than the quartz upon which he leaned. There was smoke coming from between his lips, but he had no cigarette.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Magnus laughed, silently, and yet she heard the rough barking guffaw from the past all the same, somewhere in the corners of her awareness. He turned to smoke himself, deteriorating from the bottom up, disappearing into the night sky.


	153. Snooze (Jesse/Lukas)

The first thing Lukas noticed was that his head was stuffy, as if filled with cotton balls.

When he opened his eyes, there were inky splotches in the sky, dancing around above leafy treetops. Those weren’t there normally; it was almost worrying.

At least it was until Lukas realized they were swaying only in his vision and fading quickly.

He had a go at straightening up, hastily understanding he was not on some surface, but rather leaning up against a warm body, his head tilted slightly. Turning it, he came face to face with Jesse.

They were outside, sitting on a stone bench, and it wasn’t long past noon. The sun was hung high, as opposed to how low he remembered it having been.  Small, tan birds sang up in the trees around them, and yet Lukas had no idea how he and Jesse’d gotten into the forest in the first place. The last he recalled, they had been inside, underground.

He must’ve looked as confused as he felt.

“You fainted… straight into my arms.” Jesse laughed as Lukas felt his face heat up, no doubt turning a pink color. “You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“I what?” No, that made sense. They’d been watching Olivia’s latest invention, and he’d- He’d closed his eyes, just for a moment. Big mistake. Lukas had caught a cold that made sleeping difficult, and it’d taken its toll. He’d have to apologize to the inventor later for interrupting her demonstration. “Oh, oh right.”

Sable eyes lost their mirth and Jesse’s smile disappeared. It was as unnerving as it would’ve been if the sun had disappeared from overhead.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He’d probably given them quite the scare. He knew he would’ve been concerned if one of them had done the same.

There’d been so much he wanted to do today, and he hadn’t thought it was so bad. Figured he could keep himself on his feet, in any case.

He’d obviously been wrong.

Lukas scratched the back of his head, his arm moving more sluggishly than he would’ve liked.

“I-” Lukas tried to sit up, a hand easily pulling him back. He looked back up at Jesse, an eyebrow raised. “Shouldn’t we be getting back?”

“Nah, I told everybody we’d be a while. I figured you could use the rest. Probably should get some more.” Lukas could feel the nimble fingers messing with his hair, marginally moving the goggles that sat atop his head, and he chose to close his eyes and enjoy it rather than smack them away. “And now we can take as long as we’d like. There’s no rush.”

The sunlight was toasty, his leather jacket aiding the rising temperature, and the air nice and clear as a soft breeze made the foliage rustle. His eyelids were bricks, refusing to move.

“Well, alright.” Lukas leaned into the touch, letting himself sink into the dark as he mumbled.


	154. Greed (Jesse/Lukas) (Gill/Jesse)

They’re in a shelter made of obsidian, and though it’s still standing, it creaks and groans as if made of wood.

It’s hell outside, trees being uprooted and tossed about without a care. Mountains being ripped to bits, entire rivers sucked dry to fuel the tempest.

It’s like the Witherstorm, but it’s natural. It’s not alive, but it _is_ the worst storm they’ve had in over two centuries. It hit fast and hard and none of them saw it coming. It hasn’t slowed down since, going strong with no end in sight.

And everybody from town has somehow made it one piece, with various injuries.

Everybody but one.

Gill hasn’t seen Lukas since the thing started. No one has.

Any portals are outside of the shelter, which wasn’t meant to hold so many people at once. It’s crowded, it’s loud, and there’s plenty of panic.

But there’s no Lukas.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed, either.

The new order’s talking –he and his friends would’ve already been with them, but Maya took a hard hit to the head and Aiden’s broken a few bones, they’ve been busy- and, somehow, he makes out what they’re saying above all the noise.

“It’s too dangerous, Jesse-”

“We need to find him!”

“Are we sure he’s not here?”

“For the hundredth time-”

There are no windows, because they’d be broken within seconds, but from between the bars on the iron door he can see the world outside being destroyed. For all the people here, none want to be near the only way out into death.

They can all hear it, the moans of the ground, what sounds like the undead but is really the wind screaming outside.

Basically, it’s a suicide mission.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

 

They let him, by some miracle. Not a lot of competition for instant death, Gill supposes.

He’s about to head out when Jesse stops him.

“Gill.” He turns to her, and he’s feels something tugging at him.

She looks beautiful. She’s covered in dirt, but so’s he. There’s the curl of hair over her ear, the dyed bit twisting nicely with her natural hair color. Her eyes have as much life as they always have, and he knows she’ll bounce back from anything that happens tonight.

And then he opens his big, fat mouth.

“Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you.” _I always will. It won’t matter if I die or not, you’re the light of my life._

He doesn’t stick around to see her reaction, running out the door and into the whirlwind.

Notch, now he hopes he dies. How selfish is that, to tell her? Lukas makes her so happy, and he knows his leader’s been planning on proposing any day now. He just- He wanted to say it, to let her know. It won’t make her love him, it won’t change anything in that regard, but he’ll have told her.

It’s a good thing he’s doing this. Lukas is in danger, and Gill had seen how close Jesse was to going out herself. If he hadn’t, it would be her out here now.

It doesn’t make being self-centered any better, but at least it’s not her.

Everything he comes across is utterly wrecked, familiar homes and stores no more than rubble.

He’s almost hit upside the head by a flying brick, and a tree decides to greet him, thankfully making it off of the ground and being carried off by a squall before it can land.

There’s a building on its side, more intact than most he’s gone by and searched. It’s made of quartz and bricks, part of a pattern he knows well holding on.

It was the last place Gill saw Lukas too.

There’s a good chance Lukas moved on to a different place, and the whole thing looks ready to collapse.

He has no idea what he’ll find on the other side, if they’ll be able to make it back if Lukas is there.

He inhales one more time, holds it, and exhales slowly. No time like the present to find out.

Gill kicks the door back, the once sturdy oak giving way easily.


	155. Wings

Lukas stared up –or was it down?- at a ceiling made of bricks he’d never seen before, pale lilac in light that had no apparent source. He was frozen, in both senses of the word, his bones numb and unable to move. His head swam, his back ached, and yet he had no idea what he’d hit.

The floor, most likely.

Slowly his ears stopped ringing, and he became aware of the rushed breathing, similar to his own but notably not his.

Listlessly, he turned, finding Jesse sprawled out in a position parallel to his. It took a second for him to realize it was her red bit of hair he was seeing and not blood.

His hand grabbed hers and she squeezed back gently.

The air thrummed, the sounds echoing in the vast nothingness. It felt like being back in the End, but the End had nothing like this.

Piece by piece, he began remembering how they had gotten to this point to begin with.

They had been tracking an abnormality that was causing quite the issue, creating mini earthquakes and tiny but fierce storms.

The dirt had trembled again, an otherworldly moan, deep and low, making them cover their ears.

Lukas wasn’t sure which one of them had fallen first. It was possible they’d plummeted at the same time, though it didn’t matter. Whatever the order, whatever had happened, they were here.

Wherever “here” was.

In essence, they’d been knocked through another portal- They really needed to stop doing that.

Lukas stood up, hand pushing against the odd purple wall. Jesse did the same, the two of them staring at the pile before them, which was also next to what must’ve once been an impressive, but impractical, glass wall.

How had they missed that?

There was a mass of items, some he’d only seen in fairytales and others he couldn’t place for the life of him. He stepped over a quiver of arrows, each tip a different color and all of them glowing, pulling out something that was sticking up at a weird angle.

A wooden square fell to the floor as Lukas held up the object.

"Lukas, are those... _wings_?!" Deteriorated maybe, with edges that seemed worn and even frayed, but there was no doubt about it. They were varying shades of grey, almost a stonewashed blue if he squinted, color lightening further down the smooth surface.

His hand reached it, expecting to feel metal, only to meet cloth instead. That explained the tattered bits, but not why it was sleek and glossy. Lukas’s fingers ran up and down it while he narrowed his eyes.

He’d worked with a lot of materials in the past, but nothing like this.

“Elytra.” Lukas drew his eyebrows together, tilting his head as he looked at Jesse.

“What?” She pointed to something on the frame he’d disregarded as she handed it over.

“That’s what it says. Elytra.” Taking another look, he saw she was right. In rough handwriting, next to a curve that was entirely gone and right next to a splintered edge, the dust filled letters made a name.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lukas caught sight of something outside the large broken window.

“Jesse…” It was a starry pond that rippled against pure black, hanging in the air.

It disappeared, popping out of existence and appearing directly on the ground, far below them. What in the-

Wait. That was their exit. That had dropped them here, and it could move.

 _That_ was why they couldn’t find a portal.

Before they could act upon their discovery, both he and Jesse were tossed to their knees yet again. The building continued to sway, an unseen force, possibly time, making it collapse.

It wasn’t simply shifting, nor was it an illusion.

The building they were in was actually _toppling over,_ crumbling down.

Then he was being pulled, yanked into the brunette’s arms as they jumped.

“Jesse!”

They were soaring, heading straight for the ground, with what he could now see was a giant tower hurtling down towards them.

“I’ve got you!” She grinned at him as they continued their descent, “Elytra” on her back. “Don’t let go!”

Lukas shut his eyes and held on tightly to Jesse, fingers digging into her back as they passed through the void.

It felt like being drenched in ice water.


	156. Hoarding

The accusation stayed suspended in the air like a rotting carcass for several moments.

Ivor was the one who broke the silence, acid dripping off of his words when he did.

"I'm _not_ jealous!" He crossed his arms, leveling the other two a cold glower. His own friends accusing him of such was insulting, not to mention demeaning. “The idea alone is ridiculous. I’d simply like to complete a lesson before someone decides to drag Jesse elsewhere.”

“Ivor.” Gabriel, damn him and his insight, was having none of it. “How many things have you taught Jesse today? I don’t know if you realize this, but he has spent more than half of the day with you.”

And of course Magnus had to get into the act too.

“Dude, you’re hogging the man. Probably suffocating him too.” The griefer had an eyebrow raised as he leaned up against the wall. “Give him some room to breathe.”

Perhaps Ivor had been a bit possessive, but he’d also been remarkably creative in finding ways to interest the only pupil he’d ever had. To have it all fall apart in front of him was a bit disconcerting.

Yet both Gabriel and Magnus were correct.

“As you wish.”


	157. Fear (Olivia/Axel)

The bed was cozy, the blankets warm, and yet neither of the two in it were asleep.

No, instead they were arguing. As close to it as they got, at least.

“Are you seriously jealous?” Axel grimaced as Olivia spoke, wishing for all the world he’d kept his mouth shut.

To be fair, she was the one who refused to let it die. All he’d said was that it would be nice if Maya had some boundaries.

“I’m _not_ jealous.” Even in the dark he could imagine the look on her face as she hummed, not believing him for a minute. “I’m not.”

“Well, good. You shouldn’t be.” There was a pause that lasted a second before she continued tartly. “What would you like to call it then?”

Axel sighed as he let his head hit the pillow.

“Between the two of us, one’s hot and one’s not.” No big mystery who was who. “Can’t imagine why I’d be bothered.”

Light jab in the ribs for that one.

“Axel.” She chuckled for a moment before her voice went back to stern. “A little trust would be nice. I can handle myself, you know.”

“I know. I know you can.” She was a genius, and she had more than enough common sense. “It’s Maya I’m worried about.”

Her and her hands that she couldn’t seem to keep to herself. That woman loved crawling all over Olivia, her hands always messing with the inventor’s hair or on her shoulders.

Olivia didn’t say anything for a while.

“Well, don’t.” The kiss pressed up against his neck wasn’t expected, but it was welcome. “It’s stupid.”

“I know.” Axel moved his head down lower, his nose touching her soft, curly hair. He readjusted his grip, his arms holding her close.

Stupid as it was, he couldn’t help but worry.


	158. Revenge

Rose tinted fumes rose out of the cauldron, the boiling concoction within churning as Ivor stirred, lazily continuing to ascend upwards to the lapis ceiling.

The potioneer was making a modified healing potion for Soren, whose jaw was now dislocated. The redhead was unaware of said alterations, and Ivor intended on keeping it that way.

He had been furious to find Jesse attacking Soren, brutally beating him in a fit of rage.

Until he had learned _why_ his pupil had been near tears, trying to pound Soren into the dirt.

It was an incredibly idiotic move on the builder’s part, considering what thin ice he was on. Yes, he had been forgiven once he’d returned, but Soren himself had been skittish and wary, as if one wrong move would get them to chase him away.

They wouldn’t, of course. They would simply give him a taste of his own medicine and meager humor.

Why all of a sudden he had been so bold, and with such a poor excuse for a joke, Ivor would never know.

There was a chance that the years of isolation had distanced the architect, blurred the lines of what was acceptable and what wasn’t for him, or that he merely hadn’t understood what Reuben meant to Jesse.

Reuben was a pig, after all. Intended for food and potential entertainment, but rarely companionship. Ivor himself had trouble mourning the actual pig, but that wasn’t what mattered. What did was how hard Jesse was taking the death, and how he needed to be treated with respect.

Ivor, using a gloved hand, dipped in a glass vial, a cork snuggly tapped in once it came up filled with the blood red liquid.

* * *

 

Not an hour later he was awoken by both the noticeable creaking of his door as it opened and the snout that persistently kept being pressed into his side.

Due to both the torchlight pouring in from the hallway and through the door that had been left wide open as well as the vibrant glowing of the various potions along the walls, Ivor had no trouble seeing his guest.

Before then, he hadn’t thought it possible for a pig to look livid.

“Good evening.” Ivor let his head rest on the pillow as he spoke, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “How curious. I see that you are not ‘barbequing’.”

The oink he received was punctuated by another nudge. Ivor sighed as he shut his eyes, sleep well within reach.

“Soren, there’s nothing to be done about it. The potion’s effects will wear off after twenty four hours.” He turned, his back facing his victim. “Until then, you will simply have to wait it out.”

It went oddly silent. One of the brews on the shelf to his left bubbled, its contents shifting. The door squeaked yet again as it slowly moved, but it did not close. From what he could tell from the abundant light, it had made little progress at all, moving both backwards and forwards.

Against his better judgement, Ivor turned to see if Soren had truly given up.

He regretted it.

Soren was glaring as best any pig could, his new face now right next to Ivor’s. His eyes were large and bloodshot, rather obvious from so close. Soren snorted, pressing even nearer as he did.

Ivor quietly returned to letting him glare at his back.

He was too tired to deal with this.

“Why don’t you go bother Magnus? I’m sure you two will have a wonderful conversation.” There was silence for a while longer before hooves clacked on stone and unoiled hinges screeched as the light dimmed.


	159. Embarrass (Jesse/Lukas)

"Guys, _please_ , I’m _begging_ you, _don't do this_." Lukas’s feet pushed against the worn cobblestone street, but to no avail. The three other Ocelots were having little trouble dragging him along as they searched for a certain brunette, and none of the people they passed seemed concerned enough to help him. Plenty of odd looks were thrown their way, but not much else.

"No can do man, you'll thank us later- oh, there she is!” Gill cupped his hands around his mouth, and Lukas winced. “Hey Jesse, know what Lukas’s jacket is made out of?!"

She stared at them, blinking once before calling out to them. Jesse had a brown cloth bag that was overflowing with string over her shoulder, an undone stitch or two visible.

"Uh, leather?" Oh, she had no idea. Why did they have to involve her in this?

"Pleasedon’tthisissodumb-" The blond was seriously regretting telling his “friends” anything. They’d asked, but it didn’t mean he had to say something.

Aiden ignored his pleas, cheerfully slapping his leader on the back as he shouted the follow up lines, loud enough that Lukas was sure that half the town could hear him.

" _Boyfriend_ material! This guy, right here! Completely single! Come get it while it’s hot!" He didn’t dare look to see her reaction.

Lukas stopped struggling, Maya holding him up without any problem.

"Oh my Notch..."The words were muffled by his hands, which were covering his face. The ground could swallow him up now. It felt like he was burning alive- and that was fine with Lukas; the sooner he died, the better.

Death by mortal embarrassment.

“Don’t worry boss.” Maya patted him on the shoulder. “At least she knows now.”

Knew he had obnoxious “helpers”. Knew he was a total dork and idiot.

Lukas groaned and let his head hang.


	160. Threaten (Jesse/Magnus)

Jesse had been able to turn heads before she’d become an acclaimed hero and the leader of a famous group of adventurers. Her hair was long and wavy, the red dyed bit only adding to instead of clashing with her natural chestnut curls as one would expect. Her eyes were always alight with a life no one could pin down or place, her laugh loud and clear.

She couldn’t care less about your background; it was how you acted and who you were as a person that she cared about. She was forgiving, to a ridiculous extent.

So, with her already noticeable beauty and refreshing demeanor, it was no surprise that she got so much attention.

Especially from places that weren’t expected.

Even if you were deaf and blind, you’d be able to tell that Jesse had caught someone’s interests.

Not just anybody’s, either, but that of the former griefing king’s.

Ex-idol or not, it wasn’t something Petra was going to let slide. He could’ve been the king of the world for all she cared; Magnus was still going to have to treat Jesse with respect.

Or he’d get a boot up his ass and a fist down his throat.

The miner told him so in no uncertain terms, using both one of her fists and her bloodied pickaxe for emphasis.

Petra had a feeling she didn’t have to tell him, but this way she could say she’d given him fair warning.

* * *

Lukas’s approach was more- _reserved_ , for lack of a better word. He didn’t have the confidence that Petra did to walk up to an explosives expert more than ten years his senior and then try and intimidate him.

However, Jesse was his friend, and the least he could do was make sure Magnus knew to treat her right.

Which would be easier if he didn’t seem amused by Lukas. His glare and crossed arms, which he had had to resort to after too many of the knowing evasions to his questions, did nothing to faze the smoker, who quickly began to prod fun at him.

The blond failed miserably as he tried to poke back, his voice higher than he would’ve liked and his face burning.

He ended up leaving in a huff, feeling like the punchline to the world’s biggest joke after a flippant suggestion involving a threesome.

Griefers would always get his goat.


	161. Breathe

Ivor lies on the ground, heart pounding and the final shrieks of the Enderman ringing in his ears. The grass beneath him is stained red, soaked with his own blood.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

His pupil’s beside him, her sword falling to the ground with a clatter. She speaks weakly, coughing somewhat as she does.

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” Her words are slurring, there’s blood trickling from the corner of her mouth down her chin, she’s swaying as she sits on her knees; she’s clearly in need of healing.

A pity he can’t do anything.

“Redundant.” She grips his hand, her long fingers intertwining with his own.

“I-Ivor…”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again.


	162. Lava

Jesse’s vision was blurry in the brutal heat, salty water constantly getting into his eyes, his clothes sticking to him like glue no matter what he did. His lips were almost impossible to part, his throat as dry as a bone.

Lava bubbled like fireworks, which made making anything else out a bit tricky.

However, the shrieks and moans happened to be a little noisier, as was the roaring of magma as it was poured through the air and lower into the depths.

"Okay, I hear sounds. I think I'm supposed to avoid these sounds." Jesse ducked his head as the waves below swelled again, a bat screeching as it zoomed past.

“Genius, Jesse. How long’d it take you to figure that out?” His partner in this little adventure was less than impressed. And crabby. Very crabby. “‘ _Avoid_ the bloodthirsty monsters and hurtling off of gigantic cliffs.’ Who could’ve guessed?”

“Sorry, Petra, if I’m a little busy here!” Somebody had to steer the damn boat.

It was a miracle Olivia’s metal ship had worked in the first place, but it had. If they made it out of this alive, the first thing he was going to do was let her know, multiple times, that she was the best inventor in the world.

“Oh, _you’re_ busy?” Petra had her hands full with the literal swarm of magma cubes, some large enough to reach the ceiling and others no bigger than her hand. He was rather glad he didn’t have to deal with them, though the vicious river of fiery death wasn’t much better. The redhead paused momentarily to wipe her forehead, sweat dripping down the side of her face. “Jesse, we’re up lava creek without a bucket of water, and that’s not a metaphor!”

They had lost their oars, likewise brilliantly resistant to the molten rock, and were now at the mercy of the rush.

Jesse’s steering was more to keep them from crashing into one of the walls or from tumbling over the many lethal cascades they came across.

…Like the enormous lavafall they were rapidly approaching. The one everything seemed to flow to, stone and granite closing in to make a fairly small opening, with only one way to go.

Down.

“Well, in a minute, we won’t be able to use one anyway!” He grabbed Petra’s shoulder and pulled her back, the two of them pressed up against roasting iron as everything tipped.


	163. Research

Studying the nesting habits of Endermen, which she hadn’t been aware they’d had in the first place, was not what Jesse considered to be a fun activity. She wouldn’t even consider it an activity, honestly; it was more of a suicide mission.

Soren, with dark bags under his wild eyes and his hair ruffled about by the howling winds from outside, was of a different mindset.

“Soren, no.” It felt like kicking a puppy. Soren’s response didn’t help.

A grown man shouldn’t have been allowed to pout that way.

“But Jesse-” The brunette turned away from him and returned the book she’d finished –Olivia’s tastes differed greatly from hers, and, unfortunately, _To Grind Some Redstone_ wasn’t the thrilling read Jesse’d been hoping for- to the bookshelf, interrupting him before he could get any further.

“What about everyone else?” _Anyone_ else. Jesse was no fonder of Endermen now than she had been before. The idea of going back out amongst them gave her the creeps, Soren’s assurances or no.

“I’ve asked, but I’m afraid they’re all terribly busy.” Soren had been forgiven publicly by Jesse, who’d been speaking for the entire order, but that didn’t mean it was necessarily true.

She knew most of her friends were wary of the eccentric architect, and while his own friends had forgiven him, none of them happened to be in town. Ivor and Gabriel were out searching for a beast that had supposedly been messing with some nearby towns, and Ellegaard was off rebuilding Redstonia. That left Soren with one person willing to entertain his ideas. The redhead became extremely concerned with his shoes, head remaining tilted down as he continued. He was on the edge of the leather seat, hands folded in his lap.

“Please Jesse.”

* * *

 

She’d known she was going to regret it. She’d known, but she’d done it anyway.

Where did it get her?

Back in the Endersuit and weaving about the inside of a swarm of malicious monstrosities while trying to stay alive.

As well as keeping Soren, in his own disguise, from killing himself while attempting to take notes on completely random actions.

Neither of them was keen on going back to the End, and, mercifully, they didn’t have to. Apparently, the bulk of the Endermen that Soren had been examining had taken refuge in the densest jungle Jesse’d ever seen.

There were more leaves and vines than you could shake a stick at, and there were good deal of those too all strewn about the jungle floor, which very well could’ve been made entirely of treetops.

Maybe it was. Jesse wasn’t quite sure.

However, when Soren had asked for her help, she’d assumed he’d meant they’d be working together. As it turned out, he stayed relatively far away while she was up close, his words only understandable thanks to how utterly quiet it was.

Soren’s explanation was that they knew his scent too well, what with his regular studies and field research. Jesse, on the other hand, was “new” to the majority of them, and the few encounters she’d been unlucky to have shouldn’t have been enough for them to recognize her.

Endermen wandered aimlessly at first, but then started pairing off, blocks being exchanged while they lingered close by afterwards. Few wandered now, and it was plenty to make someone antsy.

Silver moonlight streamed through the minuscule gaps in the thick emerald vegetation above, likewise jade flora stretching out towards the glow.

Jesse yanked her leg, trying to untangle her foot from said plants, as an Enderman approached. Its purple shining eyes remained locked onto hers, movements swift and nimble. The jumbled tendrils let go right as the shadowy creature came to a stop, and Jesse, who had been tugging and now was left more than a smidge off balance, tumbled backwards-

Into a second Enderman, already standing still. She cringed, wishing for all the world she’d brought her sword along. She had wanted to, but Soren had insisted she bring as little as possible.

The duo, their violet orbs boring into her, easily had Jesse, on the ground, outnumbered.

Where was Soren? Why wasn’t he doing anything?

Two inky limbs, one from each, came to rest atop her head, Jesse shutting her eyes tightly as they did. She waited.

And waited. What for, she wasn’t sure. Something, anything.

But nothing happened. The Endermen didn’t proceed to rip her head off, bash it in, or scream.

Alternatively, after several moments, they repeated the motion numerous times, each one faster than the last.

Despite the suit being insulated, the contact practically sucked all the body heat from Jesse, leaving her feeling empty as the “petting” continued.

Her partner, who had been silent and missing during all of it, chose then to talk.

His priorities, Jesse would never understand.

“Fascinating… They appear to have taken to you.” As soon as he spoke, Jesse was pulled back by two gangly arms, chills running down her spine as both of the Enderman shrieked. Soren instead seemed pleased, if not thrilled, by the hostile performance, interesting given what he’d thought of the last time Jesse had “altered their behavior”. He spoke lower, words hardly above a whisper. “Oh, this is wonderful!”

“What?” Scratch that, his priorities could be understood by nobody. Of that Jesse was sure.

“They’ve- for lack of a better word, adopted you!” She stared in his general direction, blinking twice before groaning.

Fantastic. Leader of the Order of the Stone _and_ honorary Enderman child. Just what she always wanted.

"I can't believe you roped me into this... What are we going to do?" She had yet to be released from the constricting grip.

"Are you _kidding_ me?! I would give my left arm to trade places with you right now!" Soren sounded as though he was near dancing for joy.

"Please don't." The other Enderman began holding Jesse too. She let her head hit one of their chests carefully, sighing as she did. Well.

She had a feeling that a bit of quick thinking wasn’t going to cut getting out of this one.


	164. Control (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas, by all accounts, is the best boyfriend Jesse’s ever had.

As well as the only, but that’s a minor detail.

He’s handsome, he’s buff, and he’s intelligent. His builds are incredible, his designs practical and pleasing. He can think for himself, isn’t mindless or petty. He’s nice, to an endearingly ludicrous degree, and few people can stay mad at him for long.

However, Lukas’s also managed to thoroughly irritate Jesse, and enough is enough.

He thinks he’s the boss, that he’s top dog. He keeps trying to be in charge, leading the way or guarding Jesse.

It’s cute and all, but Lukas needs to know his place.

There’s only one person fit for putting him there.

And if the lesson has to be given in bed, where he’s likewise infuriatingly stubborn, so be it.

The brunette doesn’t consider himself much of a power lover, but there’s something about taking command that’s undeniably appealing.

"You belong to me." Jesse’s not a fan of talking when he should be focusing on other activities, but he needs to make his point now, when he has Lukas twisting under him and out of breath. “I’m in charge here; you’re mine.”

The thin sheet beneath them is blistering, the air’s thick, and starlight glistens off of their sweat.

Lukas is determined here too, but they have all night. Besides, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a challenge. He’ll learn.

It doesn’t hurt that Jesse knows all of his weak spots by now, or that the blond’s far more vocal. He doesn’t have the self-control, and they both know it.

Really, it’s for his own good. He can’t juggle taking the reins and taking care of himself, Jesse’s seen what happens when he tries. He’ll be much better off once he’s accepted being the one who’s protected.

Between the two of them, one’s going to get the thrill of being in control, and it’s not Lukas.


	165. Buried

What was it people always said? Oh, yeah.

You can’t go home again.

As it turned out, you could. It could be in utter ruin, decimated and demolished, but you could return.

It wouldn’t be the same – _never_ _the same_ \- but you could try to pretend, try to find what you lost.

You would fail.

The gods could use a laugh.

And Notch himself must’ve doubled over as he howled and hooted at their misfortune, the puny mortals that scattered before an eldritch abomination.

Lukas ducked his head to avoid the fallen beam, spruce wood that had once held sturdy now leaning against the dilapidated home on his right. The timber roof had collapsed, bits scattered and blowing about the abandoned area as he walked through, leaving the others to explore as they saw fit.

The less time he spent around that bastard, the better.

It felt wrong, seeing Undergloom in the daylight. It had constantly had its own illumination, mainly provided by torches. Every once and a while some merchant would make lantern for kids to play with, and a few of the older buildings had redstone lamps. It was never grungy or dark, but the setting sunshine- it didn’t belong. It was trespassing, highlighting how everything had changed as it reflected off of broken glass that lied strewn in the streets and tried to rip apart the dark corners of the once fully covered city.

Gusts whistled as they rushed in nooks and crannies, sounding eerily similar to the laughter that had been present before, that of giggling children.

Lukas shook his head. He wasn’t here to reminisce, he was on a mission.

Find his friends, help them, and get out.

He even had a place in mind to start looking.

The bell tower- large, intricate, and old, made of quartz with the most elaborate patterns chiseled on. The four of them had hung out there regularly, passing time however they pleased, the top being so far up that everything below may as well have been the size of insects.

If there was one place his friends would have been when everything had gone wrong, it was there.

And the pristine tower was no longer upright; where it had reached since its construction had been torn away, the underground faced with harsh surface.

Not that it mattered. Lukas had been there so many times that the route was as familiar as the path to his house.

If there were any clues left behind for him to find in his search was another matter.

The blond hadn’t even made the bend around what remained of the Jonsson’s, a nice family that had produced various knickknacks and treats for anyone interested, house before he came across something fluttering in the wind.

It was an onyx colored scrap, stuck between coarse rubble and the splintered leftovers of what had once been a sign. The bottom half of a word endured, faded, multicolored cursive proudly proclaiming the presence of a tailor’s shop. Lukas had been there many times; Gill loved it.

He reached up and grabbed it, hand snatching worn leather. Pulling it revealed more trapped beneath, debris easily giving way and tumbling to the ground.

Lukas swallowed the lump that had managed to find its way into his throat, recognizing it instantly. It was torn and battered, parts of the sleeves entirely missing, but it was just like the jacket on his back.

When he started moving again, he was running.

The structure he came to was little more than a pile of crushed and destroyed fragments.

What concerned Lukas more was what he found sticking out from beneath the wreckage.

It was a dust and grime covered body, coffee hair coated in a putrid mixture of long dried blood and sand, legs crushed beneath the behemoth building.  Bloody fingers lied atop broken cobblestone, part of an arm looking as if something had tried to eat it before thinking better.

Not a cave lizard; they devoured what they wanted and left nothing behind. Probably one of the many smaller lizards that roamed about.

What made it worse was that Lukas knew the corpse well, as damaged as it was now.

Aiden, who’d tried to claw himself away before being crushed.

Aiden, who’d obviously failed.

His skin was ashen, parts of him were ripped open-

There was no doubt that he was dead.

Lukas may as well have been walking about a nightmare. There was no way this was actually happening- not Aiden, no, why him?

Were the others…?

Dazed, Lukas walked about the detritus, freezing as he came to the belfry, somehow intact amongst the destruction. The giant bell within no doubt helped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he’d-

No. No, of course not.

Lukas peered within, regretting it as his heart plummeted and his blood became ice. His hand rested against the smooth yet unstable wall, keeping him up as his eyes widened and mouth remained gaping. His legs were jello, everything shutting down.

A pair of legs was lying on the floor, the rest of the body they’d once belonged to no doubt enveloped by the gigantic golden bell.

He knew those boots well. Often one would “accidentally” kick the back of his head if the Ocelots were lounging about and bored, and one time he and Aiden had run through the city holding the footwear and playing a frantic game of keep away.

Aiden and Maya were de- _gone_ , and while he hadn’t found Gill, that didn’t mean he was alive.

The builder was likely buried elsewhere, or had been wolfed up by the monster itself as it ruined everything they had.

Lukas was submerged in arctic water as he stared blankly, hand twitching slightly as he did.

They had their whole lives ahead of them, so much they were going to do. So many places to go and things to see. And like a match lit inside an ocean, they’d been snuffed out before they could ever live.

Why them and not him?

_Why not him, why them, what did they do to deserve this, why was he alive why had he survived why was he alive-_

There was only one thing left to do.

He walked over and bent down, grabbing ahold of one of the limbs.

He pointedly ignored the cold flesh above the sock as he slipped the boot off, absently reaching in and undoing the straps on the inner left.

Lukas pulled out the knife, sheath coming off easily.

The blade was iron, small, and deadly. Maya had never wanted to let her guard down all the way.

And for good reason. People like them came to the Undergloom because someone was hunting them down, trying to get something they couldn’t have. Protection was the first thing they wanted.

Not that it did her much good in the end.

What could a dagger do against a falling tower, against a humongous bloodthirsty beast?

Nothing.

He’d put it to good use himself then.

A shaky hand brought the edge to his neck, mind numb.

Lukas had nothing left. He hadn’t seen his parents in years, and the Ocelots were all he had. They were his family. The only one who he had any reason to stick around for was Petra- few years younger than him and already so much braver. She was smart, strong. Knew her way out of almost anything, clever as a fox. Even without her voice, she was tough. She’d be fine.

What did he have to lose?

The blade stayed at Lukas’s throat for a while that could’ve been for a few minutes, could’ve been for forever. Didn’t even draw blood.

Coward. Couldn’t even do that right.

Lukas let his hand drop, let the weapon slip out and hit the ground as his head hung. It wasn’t until he saw water dripping to the floor that he realized his face was wet, that he was crying. It was more that his body was being racked by his sobs, nothing beyond blurs visible through the tears.

A wail, his own, pierced the air, ringing clearly in the ghost city.

A head of red hair appeared soon after, Petra gripping him in a tight hold as he continued to shake. Lukas buried his head into her shoulder, pulling her as closely as he could.

_Why them and not him?_


	166. Faint

Petra had never claimed to be infallible. She simply did her best.

"Woah. I didn't think it was possible for you to faint."

However, it didn’t stop Jesse from believing she was apparently flawless.

Bad joke, more like. Her frightened friend trying her best to make light of a situation she must have despised.

Blearily Petra blinked as she came to, sitting up slowly, calloused hands against faded bricks. Joints that shouldn’t have ached did, sandpaper skin sore under torn and soaked bandages.

The smoke wasn’t as bad here, nothing compared to the smothering wall of it they’d been engulfed by, the one that had spewed ashes and embers and balls of blazing fire.

All entrances to the room were blocked off by sheets of netherrack, putrid air filtering in through the lone barred window along with the glaring light of nearby lava that poured into the ocean of death far below.

Petra could feel her wound, faintly numb, sowing itself together, the last of whatever health potion Jesse had used sickeningly sweet on her tongue.

Speaking of which…

The miner glared at the brunette, whose cuts continued to bleed. There were several shallow ones across her face, scattered about her nose and cheeks in a lopsided crisscross pattern, a worryingly deeper one down her neck. Why hadn’t she tended to those yet?

Because Petra had worried her. Jesse, naturally, had probably dropped everything to help her without giving her own issues a second thought.

“Hilarious.” The room tilted, spinning slightly. Petra shut her eyes as she stood, gritting her teeth as she did. “Yeah, well, blood– blood loss’ll do that to ya.”

Petra wasn’t faultless, but she should’ve done better. Shouldn’t have been hit in the first place, should’ve dodged. It wasn’t her first time fighting a Wither skeleton, not the first time she’d gone deep into the Nether.

Maybe she wasn’t perfect, but she should’ve been _better_.

Jesse helped her steady herself, though the redhead made to grab the bag of various supplies in the other’s hand.

It shouldn’t have taken her so long to notice the blood oozing down Jesse’s arm from her shoulder, injury concealed by diamond armor.

She was really off her game today.

“C-come on, let’s get those taken care of now.” They ended up sinking to the ground as Jesse was patched up, her visible flesh growing paler by the second and Petra’s hands infuriatingly shaky.


	167. Haunting

Ivor lies motionless as he looks upwards at the ceiling, golden sunlight filtering through the window and stretching itself out upon his desk and the various books he left open the night before.

If it were a normal day, he would already be jotting down notes on his latest experiment, or perhaps trying to teach Jesse if she wasn’t too busy with other matters.

However, it is _not_ a normal day. He has been stationary for over an hour, the old clock in the corner keeping time as faithfully and agonizingly as ever, because he cannot move.

Control of his body does not come, no matter how much he tries. He breathes, in and out, but he has no say over it. Speaking is impossible, nothing leaving his throat.

The enchanter cannot recall being afflicted by sleep paralysis before, certainly never for this long.

The usual duration of such a condition slips his grasp, though Ivor suspects the nature of this is far more malicious than some simple immobility.

It feels as if he is not only fighting against his inability to move, but something actively beating him back.

Ivor has no idea what deity or spirit is angry at him this time, but he has a feeling he’ll find out soon enough.

He’s made his preference for being left alone unless there’s an emergency clear; no one will be along soon.

The stench of smoke and sulfur is suffocating, the odor not diminishing with time. It remains as thick now as it did when he first smelled it, and Ivor hasn’t a clue as to where the source could possibly be.

He hasn’t made splash potions in over a week –though he has been meaning to, and had planned to brew an abundance of such today- and no explosives are on this side of the building.

The only griefer around lives on the opposite end, and unless another prank war has broken out without his knowing, it makes no sense.

In fact, Ivor’s fairly sure they’re all outside, hence the lack of noise from upstairs. Getting themselves into trouble, no doubt. And what if they are injured?

Few of them can tell the difference between the potions already made, and if something’s to happen-

Ivor snaps back to attention, as best he can, when his left hand twitches.

It’s not him moving it.

He attempts shoving away the presence that he knows shouldn’t be there, but to no avail. If anything, it’s sucking away what little power he has, numbing his senses even more.

Brute force, however, has never been Ivor’s strong suit.

So maybe it’s time for a different approach.

He “steps back”, so to speak, and the blow he takes when the brutal shoving becomes desperate clawing is expected.

Painful, but expected.

His mouth moves, and words that aren’t his come out. His voice is rough, undoubtedly from the lack of use since awaking as well as hydration.

“The hell?” Confusion. Unanticipated, but he’ll take it.

Ivor strikes, yanking the creature from his mind and shoving it away.

When it speaks again, it’s mentally, and Ivor’s satisfaction at regaining himself is cut short as a scratchy familiar voice leaves him frozen, teeth clenched and hands tightened into fists.

* * *

The next few hours are spent with chaotic and rushed questions from both sides, no answers to be found.

Ivor can’t figure out how it’s possible, and Magnus himself is no better off.

The one upside is that they’ve both gotten better at retrieving control when it’s taken away, but that’s double sided. It means Magnus is as good at taking the lead as Ivor is, leading to some… frustration.

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

It’s Ivor’s body, and yet now the griefer can snatch it away without a second thought.

“That would be because you’re utilizing _my_ vocal cords.” He growls slightly as he looks back down at the open book, a bubbling concoction in front. Experimental, dangerous, and all they have at the moment.

Of course, that’s making the rather large assumption that this is indeed not the result of potion fumes and Ivor’s own regrets.

After all, it’s not every day he’s possessed by a deceased friend.


	168. Zombie (Jesse/Petra)

Petra paces like a caged ocelot as she waits for an update, practically wearing down the bricks beneath her as she does, prepared for the worst. It’s been over an hour, shouldn’t something have happened?

Metal swings back with ease and she stops, one of her feet almost off the ground. Ivor exits, mouth fixed in a firm line and shoulders set.

He approaches her, the once white gloves on his hands tattered and bloodstained.

She already knows what he’s going to say.

It doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Petra... The potion isn't taking. I'm so sorry, but we may have been too la-"

"Don't you say that. Don't you _dare_ say that..." Petra wants to snarl the words, put every bit of her hate and fury into them, but she sounds as empty as she feels.

She’ll give him credit where it’s due; Ivor’s considerate enough that he acts as if he doesn’t see her bloodshot eyes, the tear tracks that have been furiously scrubbed away numerous times.

It’s not his fault Jesse’s a moaning carcass now, clawing at bars and staring hungrily with black soulless eyes.

No, that honor goes to Petra.

She hadn’t been fast enough, and Jesse’d been hurt because of it.

Jesse, _her_ Jesse, had trusted her, trusted that she’d have her back, and Petra had failed miserably. Jesse got to pay the price through being painfully infected and turned, doomed to rot.

Petra looks up as Ivor clears his throat, and she notices the bags under his eyes. She wonders when the last time he slept was-

Come to think of it, she can’t remember when she last did.

Her own stupid mistake, and it’s hurting as many people as it can.

“I’ll let you know if anything happens.” She doesn’t doubt he’s doing his best. Not everybody could bring the dead back, after all. It doesn’t work half the time though, they all know it.

No one’s expecting anything anymore.

Ivor turns on his heel and strides across the floor as Petra mutters a thank you, light from the redstone torches trickling in as he returns.

Groans likewise pour through before the iron door shuts again, and Petra lets herself collapse into one of the wooden chairs.

She wonders who will have to kill Je- the zombie. Probably her.

She wonders if maybe she’ll be bit before she can- least she deserves.


	169. Recovery (Jesse/Lukas/Axel)

Cold water rushed by as the creek wound down the hill, refreshing in the heat that came in waves with the bright noon daylight. Lush, green, long meadow grass created a gentle ground for all to rest upon.

Jesse rested beneath one of the few large oak trees, emerald leaves above casting a large shadow. Her eyelids were shut, her clothing plenty warmed by the sun’s rays. She leaned up against an equally toasty body, an arm draped over her shoulder. Having not properly rested in over two days made sleep an easy and tempting target, calling to her in her contentment.

“I’m _not_ jealous.”

“Totally are.”

She’d have answered it too, if her companions hadn’t continued talking.

It wasn’t bickering- it was really more banter for the sake of banter, and Jesse was willing to bet that neither Lukas nor Axel even knew what they were supposedly arguing about anymore. Their volumes changed randomly, from barely above a whisper to normal talking. The latest jump had surprised her more than she’d have liked to admit.

Both of their voices were docile, lax. Lukas was on Axel’s other side, and the duo sounded as close to snoozing as Jesse felt.

If they’d kept their armor on, they’d no doubt all be out. The heavy material would only act as blankets at this point.

However, their equipment had been tossed aside after being hastily scrubbed when they were drinking water from the brook, now lying in a cluttered pile.

Comfortable or not, no one wanted to stay coated in zombie guts.

A midnight hike, the full moon glowing bright in a clear sky as cold wind chilled them, had quickly become a monster bloodbath, a horde of the undead crawling out from the shrouded depths and trees.

It wasn’t fun if there wasn’t a challenge, it was part of the reason they’d gone at night, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tiring. When the sun had risen, the three of them had trudged downhill as best they could, collapsing here.

Jesse muttered slightly, burying her head into the soft fabric of Axel’s shirt as she curled up.

If they didn’t get the hint after that, she decided, there was no helping them.

As she slipped away into dreams, a hand –there was a woolen fingerless glove on it, Lukas’s- gently grabbed one of her own. Axel’s chest rose and fell, breath rumbling when he exhaled, not quite snoring.

There wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be.


	170. Herobrine

Herobrine has a love for the corporeal realm, one he can’t and doesn’t care to explain. He finds a host and has his way with it every so many centuries, doing as he pleases and raising hell as he sees fit, before leaving it be and observing while it tries to put itself back together.

Perhaps it’s the attention. It certain plays a large enough part, seeing how he is incorporated into legend, watching his name be passed down with solemn secrecy and terror.

The perfect time to strike is, of course, when the newest offspring begin to question the reliability of what is said of his feats and yet have enough fear rooted in them that their emotions tear their fragile minds apart.

So when someone scoffs when he is brought up, Herobrine grins and begins his search.

Now, in truth, any sack of flesh will do. Willing or not, taking control of them is simple-

But it’s been several millennia since he’s had a more than cordial relationship, and those add a whole new level of fun.

That’s why he goes scouring, from crowded jungle villages to hardened mountain settlements.

Something different this time, unlike any, or at least most, of his prior subjects. There have been more than Herobrine himself can recall, but something new would be nice.

What luck that it takes only a few years, less than a decade, for him to find one.

There’s a smattering of trees about the oddly shaped hill on which the center of the town seems to rest, a young boy hanging from one of the lower branches.

It’s through a small pane of glass, cracked in some places, that he watches a group of Endermen. The rough edges almost cut the boy’s hands, and it becomes clear he is either very curious or very stupid.

Likely both.

This alone means nothing to Herobrine, and it’s only the fact that a tangible creature could be so suicidal that interests him in the first place.

However, the child staring directly at him through his little shard, tilting his head as he looks over it and then back at it once more, fascinates him greatly.

Further probing reveals that there’s nothing odd with the glass; it’s the boy.

Herobrine waves at him, leisurely. He waves back.

The small being with curly hair the color of fire is eventually toted off by his mother, but Herobrine has already decided who his new host will be.

Young now, but he won’t be for long. Besides, this way there’s more time to shape him.

* * *

 It’s when he becomes a teenager that Herobrine decides to tempt him with more than silent murmurs.

The unaware stumbles across it during one of his moonlight walks, the glow impossible to miss. (That’s by no mistake, even if he doesn’t know it yet.)

A small block, able to give a human the powers of a god. It worked the last time Herobrine gifted it, eons ago.

Through some gentle persuasion, the builder keeps it secret, _somehow_ figuring out the name when he is half asleep and turning it in his hands.

Herobrine has never been against bending rules, and his subject is no different. Such a force should be treated with respect, until it’s abused in wonderfully horrid ways, and that means knowing its name.

Quickly he gains friends; an unforeseen, but irrelevant matter. They’ll all be dead in the end.

Except for when the teenager is undeniably a man, when Herobrine discovers they’ll be off to certain doom.

(It doesn’t take much coaxing to convince him to take along the block. For his friends, naturally.)

The foolish one, who constantly questioned their methods, leaves, and the others go their various ways.

Herobrine follows to the next dimension, one both of them pretend to prefer to the terrestrial one.

It’s here his work truly begins.

There’s no one else to get in the way, nothing to stop him-

So he digs his way in, fingers clutching the unusual awareness tighter than ever before.

It all happens freely. With only the two of them, his speaking is welcomed generously, assumed to be that of the architect at first. He becomes aware that the thoughts are not his, but more. Showing him how much more he could do and be.

Herobrine waits through countless Endermen experiments, as he becomes more welcomed with each one.

Such crippling loneliness is rare, but delightful.

When they are returned to their normal plane, called on by likewise inconsequential sorts, Herobrine finds himself witness to a path of destruction he did not cause. It’s a wake left by a monstrosity crafted by his gift.

He has to compliment its style- crude, but effective. Its maker is a far more interesting sort now, and Herobrine wonders why he didn’t consider molding the shut-in instead. To be fair, the man has been suspicious of such control since the beginning; his first choice’s still undoubtedly the best.

* * *

His lion –for that’s what he is- loses one he held close despite all odds, bleeding out in his arms due to his failure, and Herobrine can hardly keep from hissing in glee.

 _He_ would never die. _He_ would never leave.

Alas, people were so breakable.

He grins.

Pity.

* * *

Their survival comes first, and fleeing is an obvious option once presented with the alternative of demise.

It leaves his human discontent nevertheless, torn up over nonsense, and Herobrine decides to make it up to him.

He looks up at an inky sky with an orange moon, wolves howling in the distance.

He has been by his mortal’s side at the best and worst of times, always there. He has given him everything, and will do it again now, when he has nothing.

And it’s all come down to this.

_Let me in._

Herobrine watches as silvery words dance in the air before finding their way to his target’s ear.

The redhead is so used to his whispers now that he doesn’t even shiver as most individuals do, as he himself did when the mutters had begun slowly all those years ago.

It’s time.


	171. Rat

Whines of what had to have been otherworldly creatures continued to slip beneath the door and into the ears of an exhausted Ellegaard.

An animal was dying- of that she was certain.

The engineer dragged herself out of the soft covers of her bed and across the wooden floor, the ticks of redstone machinery around her fading with every step.

By the time she had entered the chiseled quartz hallway where the sounds were the loudest she’d heard yet, the source was as clear as the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

Something was in their kitchen, the lamps within all turned on.

So, with little choice, a tired, hardly half-awake Ellegaard walked through the doorway, unsure of what to expect. Someone was making an awful lot of odd noises inside, but best case scenario was that it was Soren singing to himself again and the inventor would be allowed to walk out with a glass of water and no issues.

What she hadn’t been expecting was Magnus, sitting atop the counter with his knees drawn up and TNT at the ready.

His armor was off, though his mask remained. Ellegaard’s eye was drawn to the glinting lighter he held in his other hand, and every alarm possible went off in her head.

What had happened that would make the griefer want to blow up the room? And at this time of night?

He finally noticed her, body turning towards her as he stopped glaring at the wall.

"Ellie, oh Ellie, thank Notch! There's a _rat_ and I've been stuck up on this counter for an hour-” She couldn’t help the snickers that escaped her, nor their changing into full on uproarious laughter.

“Scared of rodents Magnus?” And here she’d actually been worried for a second. He glared at her, lips pulling back into a sneer.

“ _No_ , stop laughin, I’m _not_ scared of rats, I just- Hey! _Hey_!” His head snapped back to its previous position, the demolitions expert shooing something away wildly with his hand. “ _OhmygodEllieit’scomingcloser_ , catch me, catch me, catch -ow!"

Now, an exhausted Ellegaard was not prepared for Magnus suddenly tossing himself at her, his lit lighter and case of explosives coming dangerously close to one another as he did.

So perhaps it was understandable that her preparation for catching him on such short notice was poor, resulting in the two of them collapsing onto the floor in an undignified heap.


	172. Oddity

Jesse stretched his arms, his fingers linking over his head as he did. He twisted his neck to the side as he let the limbs fall, his sword lying up against the wall.

The practice dummy rested on the ground, clumpy, grey wool stuffing strewn around what remained of its base on the wooden floor. The leather casing had been sliced clean through, scraps clinging to bits of the fluffy filling.

No, taking what was left of his anger out like this wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but it was better than taking it out on Soren again.

Jesse’s lips twisted into a scowl, his brow furrowing.

Of all the stupid, nasty-

He shook his head, letting his fingers uncurl from the fists they’d become. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from the destruction. He’d have to clean that up.

The architect didn’t mean it. He’d always been a little out there, had probably thought the sick joke was funny.

Jesse didn’t want to hurt him, not again, but really?

Day after day of missing and mourning his best friend, the pain as sharp and fresh every time, and that was what Soren thought would cheer him up?

Thinking every swine he ran across was Reuben for a split second before reality came crashing back, believing that every odd sound was his pig walking about.

The pig that was dead.

The oinking outside the door, for instance, wasn’t actually a hog. It was probably some-

Jesse looked over, both eyebrows rising. No, that was genuine oinking. He would know; he’d been around it for most of his life. There were hooves clacking on lumber too, getting closer.

Who in the world had let a pig inside?

Jesse opened the door, oak swinging freely on oiled hinges. When he stepped out, his target of interest wasn’t a step ahead, though the barnyard animal had stopped walking.

He slowly got on his knees, a hand scratching behind the creature’s ear.

Looking it in the eye, Jesse could see something he didn’t often find. There was a spark of intelligence there, in the way it stared back instead of trying to move away, one Reuben had had.

One of Jesse’s hands reached into his pocket, pulling out a carrot as he didn’t swallow the lump that wasn’t there.

“Hey buddy.” Jesse looked towards the window as the pig hesitantly chomped on the vegetable. There was a thick mist, dark grey clouds hiding the sun and sky. This wasn’t weather a farmer would let his livestock roam in, and most wild boars didn’t enjoy the cold or damp. “Where’d you come from?”

Never mind that he doubted a pig could get through the iron doors alone, or the gate that surrounded the ever growing city. Jesse didn’t have a clue who could’ve let him in, though.

He received no answer, but that was okay. He patted the animal on the head, scratching under its chin now.

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to go, not in those conditions.” Jesse turned and walked down the hall, planning on getting a drink before cleaning up the wreckage he’d caused, pausing when he heard steps behind him.

Looking back, Jesse saw his new friend had decided to follow. He chuckled before he turned back and began walking up the stairs.

He was no Reuben, but he didn’t have to be.


	173. Gift

Lukas’s every step was silent, leaves above rustling in the evening breeze. The moon was high above, glowing amongst the inky void, but not bright enough to dim the hundreds of stars that littered the sky.

Lukas could keep secrets with the best of them, and while he didn’t lie often, when he did it wasn’t easy to catch. However, it didn’t stop the feeling of eyes on his back, watching his every move as he smuggled the bundle in.

Wild or domesticated, pigs were hardly a scarcity. They were almost everywhere, a fact that no doubt reminded Jesse more of her deceased companion.

It came in handy in the sense that it wasn’t difficult to find a farmer willing to sell their young livestock. Spring had rolled around, bringing new life in every form and shape.

The piglet, who’d fallen asleep during the short trip from the market to the temple, was wrapped up in a fluffy, brown blanket that’d been frayed by age. The pit in his stomach grew, and Lukas’s happiness began to dwindle in favor of concern. Paws raced against quartz as his ocelot ran up to greet him from one of the few lit rooms, rubbing his head against Lukas’s side and legs before curiously nudging the parcel. Lukas chuckled as he rubbed behind his ears, the lanky feline purring.

He wasn’t worried about Ollie. The ocelot was as well behaved as they got, friendly with pretty much all creatures. The only animals he even attempted to hunt or chase were chickens.

(Lukas had a feeling that Axel had something to do with that.)

No, what made the builder pause was how Jesse was going to react.

How she was going to take his gift, what she was going to think was his reasoning behind it.

It wasn’t to replace Reuben, which Lukas knew would only insult her and was an impossible feat to begin with, but to help her heal. Simply because something ended didn’t mean there couldn’t be a new beginning.

He’d seen the way Jesse’s eyes softened whenever he and Ollie were together, the way her smile would both enhance and fade. Her voice would quiet, and she’d lose a bit of the life that always accompanied her actions. Lukas would’ve had to have been blind not to notice her hurting over Reuben- it didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was so subdued around Ollie.

 “Lukas?” Lukas looked up as the brunette herself left the room Ollie had exited, golden lamp light pouring through the open doorway, her hand on the hilt of her sword. It wasn’t drawn, and at seeing him, her fingers strayed from the weapon.

“Jesse! I- didn’t know you were up.” He’d wanted to give her her present in the morning, as she had for him. He wanted the small animal to get a chance to get a good long rest first.

“I was waiting for you.” Lukas winced as she tapped her foot. He’d left at a late time specifically so she wouldn’t know. “What’s that?”

“Your gift.” Jesse tilted her head, an eyebrow quirking upwards.

“My what?”

“My way of saying thanks for Ollie.” She grinned and the tension in her body was snipped the way a taut string would’ve been.

“Lukas, you really didn’t have to. Ollie’s one of us, and I’m just happy he loves you.”

The noise and lack of rocking motion was apparently enough to wake up the snoozing animal, who wriggled in the wrappings, the movement making Jesse’s eyes widen.

“I wanted to.” Lukas got to his knees and let the little piglet go, who stumbled a few steps in a daze, paying no mind to Ollie’s probing and sniffing. He stood back up with the cloth in hand, watching as she easily found her way to Jesse, who crouched.

There were tears gathering in the corners of Jesse’s eyes, the green irises clouded by a sheet of salty water. Lukas’s panic disappeared, relief overtaking him, when the fingers covering her mouth parted enough to let her smile shine through.

The young swine was picked up and cradled in her arms, Jesse’s moves smooth and gentle. Her voice found her through loving mutters and coos while she pet and tickled her new friend.

He had a feeling he’d done well enough with his gift.


	174. Tumble

The light pinks and oranges of sunrise began to show, birds cawing and singing above, icy gusts cutting through all they could. Swords clashed and people shouted, a possibly peaceful picture thrown into utter chaos.

Lukas and Aiden were engaged in combat, and every second that passed was another that the Founder struggled to keep her grip. Jesse wasn’t just stuck between a rock and a hard place- the hard place and rock were in two different areas, and moving to one meant abandoning the other.

However, she trusted the builder could hold his own against Aiden, whose strong suit seemed more to be deceit than actual fighting. He talked a big game, but that was all he was. Talk.

Jesse slid to the ground headfirst, hands grabbing the Founder’s right as the tattered bit of soil she clung to gave way. Relief mixed with the pounding adrenaline in her system as Jesse yanked the ruler upwards as she got back to her feet.

The other woman’s thanks was panted out, her knuckles white and a cut slowly bleeding above her eye. Her clothes were smudged with mud and dust, dirt trapped underneath her fingernails.

Before Jesse could reply, a scream, one that would haunt her for years to come, drowned out all other sound.

Her heart managed to both stop completely and jump through her throat, time slowing down as Aiden shoved Lukas back, successfully sending him off the edge.

His hair, matted by sweat and traces of blood, twisted wildly about in the wind, barely restrained by his goggles, as he plummeted, his arms outstretched towards her. His armor glinted in the early morning light, making the scene all the more unreal.

Jesse reached out, but it was too late. Lukas disappeared beneath the thin sheet of clouds, beneath the island, and a numb part of her mind registered that he would likely fall forever, never given a moment’s rest or relieve, until he died of sheer exhaustion.

All because of her. All because she hadn’t been good enough, because she’d been too slow.

Jesse barely felt the sharp kick to her back, Aiden’s boot shoving her into the Founder. The two had no time to react as they were sent tumbling after the already fallen blond, air rushing past at blinding speeds as they descended.

The last she saw was Aiden’s smug face, his smirk mixed with no regret.


	175. Unexpected (Milo/Isa)

Milo looked down at their tiny town, the sun slowly sinking behind the mountains. Bright light bounced off of the freshly fallen snow upon the peaks, birds circling in the sky as they took off from the rocky ledges.

His chair was warm, oaken seat and back hard but not unbearably stiff, Benedict clucking as she moved about the polished andesite floor of the tower’s highest level.

Low snores came from his companion, who rested at his side. Her silky hair was soft against his bare arm, her hands folded in her lap even as she was slumped. It fascinated him, how hands so dainty and immaculate could also effortlessly wield and use dangerous weapons. Few opponents of hers walked away unsliced.

Isa hadn’t had a moment’s rest all day, busy once more with the usual proceedings as well as an oddly vicious wolf pack, and sleep was likely a pleasant reprieve.

The few children that lived within their settlement laughed and shouted as they played below, wooden swords hitting each other in rapid, if not clumsy, succession. The oncoming darkness, however, interrupted their fun in the form of their parents whisking them away to their various abodes. Their groans and contrasting cheerful goodbyes easily drifted up into hearing range as they left.

Milo was proud, admittedly. Yes, the stone and timber houses, little more than huts, were nothing compared to the glistening buildings they’d once had, and the cobblestone roads weren’t the cleaned streets of above, but they were built by hand. Everyone’s home wasn’t like anyone else’s, made by them with their own ideas in mind, and the imperfections only made them more real.

Resources were enjoyable to collect, the activity more a game than a chore. It was so liberating, to be able to locate and take anything, safe in the knowledge that it was not limited. There would always be more to discover, more to see.

Animals were quick to tame when approached by a friendly and warm sort, and their assistance in the rougher farm work was appreciated. Horses to ride on and sheep to shear weren’t hard to find, an ample amount of pens consisting of solely those animals abundant.

Battling was perhaps the toughest to truly master, those that had once been guards being the only ones with anything resembling training beforehand. Violence had been quite frowned upon back in Sky City- in most cases, it would earn one a night in prison. Breaking the habit to flee rather than fight wasn’t easy, but it was doable. Milo pitied the monster that attempted to attack them now.

(Well, there were still plenty of people who trembled in fear instead of raising their swords, but fighting was not for everyone. Guards did have a purpose, after all.)

They were finally starting to get the hang of taking care of themselves.

As the last of sunlight left the sky, everything remained alight due to the various lamps and torches.

Isa had wanted a wall around them, but that felt far too similar to their previous city for comfort. They had compromised, as they’d agreed to do, with Reginald acting as a sort of mediator –despite his loyalty to Isa, he was the least biased person they could find and trust-, and decided upon various scattered towers, also glowing in the dark, that could look out for and take down monsters.

Milo looked to his left again, towards the southern fields, but he saw nothing. There was a bow and a bundle of arrows beside him, just in case, though he doubted anything would come his way. The various scouts took turns, switching from tower to tower, and this one was one of the closest to their lit home.

Buck, ahead by a good many meters and closer to the lake, would probably see more action tonight.

That was alright. He himself could feel respite tugging at him, but he would not sleep until the morning. It was his duty after all, what with his partner already out.

If Milo had been told, all those months ago when the best they could do was disagree about disagreeing, that one of his best companions would be the very woman he’d sworn to overthrow…

He’d have laughed, undoubtedly.

Nevertheless, Jesse was right; it was his duty to help protect his friends, his people, and if that meant playing nice with the Founder, then so be it.

He initiated a few conversations, here and there, and tried to see her point of view concerning the abundant issues that sprung up during and after their construction.

The small talks gradually became longer, and, as expected, she opened up to him, and he to her.

What Milo hadn’t been expecting was that she was… lonely. Her? The Founder, the one who had everyone’s admiration and respect despite being the one to lock them away in their gilded cage, _lonely_?

Isolation was granted to those tossed in cells due to simple mistakes, locked away for human nature and innate curiosity. It was not that of regal rulers, certainly not for a tyrant-

Yet Isa was not a tyrant. No longer, at least, if she had ever really been one. She had been cowed by fear, yes, but given what they’d seen of the natural world, perhaps it was founded. Not alright, not acceptable to so easily cloud her judgement, but understandable.

And she changed, gradually, from an obstacle to overcome into a human being, a person he could talk to as an equal.

The arguing became debates, insults turning into banter. Milo began to see Isa as a friend, and then he had found himself an unforeseen dilemma.

She was a beautiful woman, there was no arguing it, and her mannerisms and personality were just as enchanting. Thoughts of her clouded his mind at the most inopportune times, and then there was real tension between them again. What kind was dubious, and there had been several days of high strain on their friendship before they had discussed things in private.

One night quickly took care of the damage done.

Milo smiled as he kissed the top of Isa’s head, whispering a good night to her as he did. She muttered in response, one of her hands finding his.

He’d never stood a chance.


	176. Remorse (Aiden/Jesse) (Jesse/Lukas)

Making a new start would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if everyone around didn’t already know Aiden as a crazy dictator and a traitor.

In case anyone ever wondered what a jail cell felt like, it was cold.

No, no, humongous understatement. It was positively frigid.

The ground may as well have been ice, soil and grit rock solid in the dark and enclosed room.

There was a single torch in the corner, making it bright enough for nothing to spawn. However, the building was on the edge of the town, and thus the first place for mobs to crowd.

Falling asleep to zombies rattling the door and trying to claw their way in wasn’t fun.

In fact, Aiden was sure that the monsters were left alive to try and bombard their shelter until morning, at which point he, Maya, and Gill were fortunate enough to wake up to their burning alive.

After all, the prison was far enough away from everyone else’s homes that no one else would be bothered by the creatures.

Even if they were, they could easily handle it. They had swords.

Punching a skeleton to death? Near impossible, not to mention deadly. Not that anything could make it in.

Aiden leaned back against the wall, not caring as the body heat he had was sucked out.

The whole thing was made of cobblestone, save for the dirt ground. There were no windows. An iron door blocked them from the outside world, iron bars and yet another door blocking them off and allowing a small walkway in front of the entrance.

Yeah, they could break out, but then what? Where else could they go? Far as anyone could tell, the world was untouched, which meant no one else was around.

Living by themselves, the three of them, sounded more and more appealing all the time. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about it.

Not that he’d do that to Gill or Maya. They’d stuck by him for Notch knew why, and he’d already put them through enough.

Asking them to give up the closest thing to civilization for his wants was beyond selfish.

Jesse and the others had left, but Aiden didn’t know how. Supposedly the Foun- _Isa_ knew, but she wouldn’t tell them. She wouldn’t give them the time of day.

Probably another portal hidden away somewhere. Looking for it was pointless.

What would going home change? Would it fix his mistakes, his behavior that he couldn’t explain when he looked back? Would it make everyone suddenly forgive them?

No.

No it wouldn’t.

Aiden looked beside him, to the two on the verge of sleep. Maya and Gill were leaning up against one another, slumped while they sat up.

He stifled a shiver.

He’d join them soon.

Huddling for heat was the best way to get comfortable, never mind warm.

This was what they were reduced to. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere, only set loose from their cell in order to help with construction.

They were alive, but they weren’t living.

No armor, no weapons. Three meals, bread and water every single day.

If Reginald was in a good mood, Maya or Gill would be lucky enough to get an apple, which they would share.

The captain of the guard made his distrust for Aiden clear, though you could bet your bottom dollar that Aiden didn’t try to pull anything around him.

Aiden didn’t really try much of anything around anybody.

He only talked to his two cohorts, who were always willing to listen. Maya refused to let him wallow, made him think of better things, and Gill was always sympathetic to whatever he had to say.

Honestly, Gill and Maya were what kept him going every morning. They were the reason he dragged himself up for another day.

Them and Jesse.

Sometimes thoughts of her found him. Memories of how she looked, musings about how beautiful and sweet a person she was. Even after trying to murder her, she’d simply given him advice and forgiveness.

Not that they’d ever be anything.

Because he’d tried to kill her. He’d tried to kill her and Lukas, one of his best friends, somebody who had stuck by him for years. And he had no idea why. He’d just been so angry.

Notch, what was wrong with him?

She’d be happy with Lukas, at least.

The two of them- what they had going on was beyond easy to see. Jesse deserved better than Aiden, and Lukas was certainly that.

It didn’t stop the envy, the hatred, the desire to have her all to himself.

But she wasn’t his to have.


	177. Dance (Jesse/Petra)

The barn was dusty and old, years of use and wear showing in the nicks etched in wood and the various faded patches. The whole thing smelt of livestock and hay, even with the large doors open. The air was cool, a light evening breeze picking up leaves that had fallen and dancing them about for a brief spell.

Songs blared, pounding, easy to hear for miles. The participants were rowdy, some drunk and others only half so.

The air thrummed with life, with energy, loud voices shouting to each other in both friendly and vicious tones amongst all the chaos.

Petra much preferred it to the stuffy dances that had been thrown in their honor before.

The others were scattered about the area, all smiling and laughing. It felt good to see everyone so happy.

Especially after the close call with the sudden surge of zombies.

She herself was actually on the dance floor, the dances everyone did changing from one tune to the next, each more ridiculous and fun than the last.

Petra missed a step, the mistake throwing her off slightly. It wasn’t enough to make her stumble, but it was enough for others to notice.

“Having trouble?”

Like her partner.

Petra grinned as she turned her head to look up, her fingers gripping Jesse’s legs tighter.

The current odd jig they were doing involved having someone else on your back as you moved along to the fast paced music.

Weird, but it wasn’t anything the miner couldn’t handle.

“It’s hard to dance with a devil on your back.” That got her a laugh.

Petra had only had a bottle of the beer offered, and whatever they served here was strong. Jesse, on the other hand, had had a bit more to drink.

“Ooh, too much Petra?” Jesse chuckled as she leaned down while the redhead continued to move. “And here I thought you could deal with anything.”

“ _Almost_ anything, and I never said that.” The melody, an unfamiliar little ditty played on a banjo, finished, and Petra let the brunette down to the ground, poking her lightly in the stomach as she did. “Maybe you should lay off the cake for a while.”

Jesse pretended to consider it, bringing a finger up to her cheek as she tilted her head.

“Nah.” She kissed Petra on the cheek, took her hand, and dragged her out further to the middle as the next song began.


	178. Protect (Jesse/Lukas)

Materials of all sorts were arranged in the same form over and over again, glowing webs of light within each one.

They were no closer to home now than they had been before.

Lukas looked at their little group, the four of them on the ground around the small patch of burning flames.

They’d decided to set up camp in the hall before going through yet another portal. There was no telling what would take them where, and jumping into the thick of things again when all anybody wanted was sleep wasn’t wise.

Ivor and Petra fell asleep at about the same time, both of their snoring light. Petra had an arm underneath her head as she rested on her stomach, while Ivor was on his back.

Saving the world, no matter which it was, would always be exhausting.

It surprised him that Jesse, one of the ones who’d done the most, was awake.

She sat beside him, staring at the fire. Every now and then she would watch as a bit of ash drifted upwards only to lazily fall back to the floor.

“Jesse?” Her eyes were lidded, her hand keeping her up.

“Mm?” She murmured as she turned to him slowly.

“I’ll keep watch?” What for he wasn’t sure, but they all knew anything could come through at any time. Lukas kissed her forehead, Jesse now leaning into him. She smiled, taking a minute before replying.

“Thanks Lukas.” Her voice became fainter and fainter, breathing slowing while she shut her eyes. Lukas found himself becoming her pillow, the brunette wrapping her arms around him. "I know I can count on you."

Time passed, and he was the only one left awake.

It was a wonderful thing, to be trusted.

The blond would do his very best to protect that feeling, to protect his friends.

Lukas’d already made the mistake of trusting the wrong people. He wasn’t going to do it again.


	179. Busy (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Magnus smiled, an arm and his attention thrown lazily over the back of his chair and his body turned to the side as he watched the engineer work.

He didn’t know how long they were in silence, Ellegaard busy with her latest contraption and Magnus enjoying watching every bit of it.

It was when she stood up, wiping the thin shining sheet of sweat from her brow with a hand, that he broke the hush.

“You know, you are one dynamite gal.” His voice was softer than normal as he spoke, but his words were easy to hear all the same over the whirring of machinery.

Ellegaard was wearing her overalls, redstone smudged on both her and her outfit. The smeared bits of dust sparkled in the sunlight that filtered through the large window, looking much better than any makeup. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy bunch, strands of chocolate hair curling around her face.

She raised an eyebrow as she walked over to him, wiping what was stuck to her hands off with a stained, scruffy cloth.

“And you’re strangely sappy this evening.” Magnus shrugged, not taking his eyes off of her. They had gotten back from a trip with the rest of the order to the nearest patch of ice and snow, and while the adventure had been nice, there were some things he missed.

Things they both had missed.

Things they could do now that they weren’t out in frosty blizzards shuddering and shivering for warmth.

He wasn’t restrained, but neither was she. Ellie was in his lap a moment later, arms around him, hands behind his neck. A few fingers stroked his neck, almost dipping beneath the neckline of his shirt, and he’d be damned if her smirk wasn’t teasing.

“Hey, you are. You look beautiful.” A second eyebrow rose. “Seriously. You’re more than cute, more than pretty. You’re a freakin genius and sharp as a tack.”

“Magnus.” He nuzzled her neck, the giggle he got only spurring him on.

“Better than any explosion.” Magnus’s lips trailed her collarbone, and she didn’t object when teeth became involved.

“Is that so?” Ellegaard more or less snatched his mouth, their kiss only broken by the need for air. ”What did you break?”

“No, no, I mean it.” At this rate the chair wouldn’t be enough. Not that he was picky; the floor was fine. “What, I can’t tell you you’re gorgeous?”

The inventor didn’t reply verbally, instead moving in for another kiss.

Which didn’t happen, thanks to the redhead that chose then to open the door, dark oak swinging back to reveal their resident architect. The two broke apart at the entrance, both turning to face the intruder.

“Ah, Ellegaard! There you are. I was look-” Finally he noticed what exactly he had interrupted, and whatever train of thought he’d had decided to run off the tracks and into a ditch. “Oh.”

“What do you need, Soren?” Ellegaard’s tone wasn’t quite ice, but it wasn’t too friendly either. Soren folded his arms behind his back, rocking on the balls of his feet slightly as she stood.

“You told me you had a comparator I could use?” The device next to Soren began to thrum as it started another cycle of whatever it was supposed to do.

“Yes.” She walked to the back of the room, heels clacking on stone, and proceeded to root through one of the many wooden chests. “Just a moment, please.”

His elbow on his knee, Magnus’s head rested in his hand as he looked at Soren, lips set in a firm line.

“Do ya know the meaning of ‘mood killer’?” The builder winced from where he stood, not far in front of the doorway, as he faced the griefer.

“Terribly sorry Magnus.” The toe of his leather boot scuffed the ground. “We did talk about this earlier though, and I need that piece. I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Magnus waved him off with a lazy flap of his hand, making sure Soren saw his lips quirking up into a smile. Things like this happened, and it was their fault for not locking the door. To be fair, he thought he had, but it wasn’t as if they all hadn’t walked in on Ivor and Soren at one point of another.

Ellie strode up to Soren with the comparator in hand, apologizing as she gave it to him.

“If you don’t need anything else…” Subtle as a sledgehammer, Ellegaard nodded towards the door with a fixed grin.

“O-of course! I’ll… leave you two to it, then.” Soren ran out like his rear was on fire, much to the amusement of the other two.

The door was locked almost immediately, a small silver key tossed to the ground afterwards as Ellegaard walked back towards Magnus.

“Where were we?” It didn’t take a second for them to get right back to business.


	180. Rails (Jesse/Petra)

Rusted wheels screeched against corroded iron, two mine carts tilting to the side as they hurtled down the old tracks.

This was not how today was supposed to have gone.

However, Jesse reflected as her fingers clung to the metal edge when another sharp turn nearly sent them plunging into a lava pit, it rarely did.

The four of them had been heroes for little over two months, and there hadn’t been much to do once the main reconstruction had finished. Sure, there were a few outlier towns and villages that needed some sprucing up, but they seemed able to handle it on their own.

Kevesi, a small trading settlement on the coast, had sounded like a great place to alleviate their boredom. According to Olivia, they were low on supplies anyhow.

Then they had heard the rumors while they’d been poking about, whispers behind their backs as they traded and conversed, shady looks traded in crowded streets and buildings.

As it turned out, there was an old mineshaft below the city, an expansive one said to hold treasures of all sorts. According to their informant, the barkeep with a lopsided grin and an apparent smoking problem, the secrecy of said tunnels was hyped up to give it an air of mystery and to increase tourism.

Nonetheless, a sufficient number of decades had passed since the initial deserting, and people were taking an actual interest again. The only problem was the ridiculous amount of monsters lurking within.

Only the bravest, or the stupidest, were willing to enter, and no one had yet to return alive.

Maybe it was telling that they’d all been so eager to jump in, locating one of the secret entrances after only a few minutes of searching.

Rails lead everywhere and anywhere, though parts of the ground and ceiling had crumbled and collapsed into the gigantic ravine beneath. Entire passageways were cut off, tracks left dangling over the edge.

The chests they found were abundant, holding various rare items and equipment. There were plenty of things that if they didn’t want, though a certain enchanted diamond helmet had caught Jesse’s eye, the others back home could enjoy. Ivor alone would be thrilled with the number of potion ingredients they’d discovered tucked away in carts and corners.

Unfortunately, the creatures that dwelled in the dark twisting shafts were just as plentiful and far more vicious and brutal, especially with the fangs.

The four of them had barely outrun a horde of cave spiders when they’d stumbled across a creeper nest.

And, as they had a terrible tendency to do, they had separated in their haste to get the hell away from the creeper swarm.

Jesse was with Petra; the duo had dashed off in the same direction, using the decrepit steel carts that had been present to aid their escape.

You may have thought that this meant the wild ride was the most of their worries, and that all of the beasts had been successfully ditched.

You would be wrong.

Jesse ducked, scarcely dodging the arrow that zoomed past before it splintered against a stone wall. A spider jockey, a freaking _spider jockey_ , was hot in pursuit on a trail parallel to their own, and somehow it was keeping up at a good enough rate to fire at them.

Unbelievable.

“What did we do to make them so angry?” A zombie dropped from overhead as Jesse spoke and was quickly stabbed through by her sword before being discarded over the edge.

“Simple: We’re not dead!” The redhead sent a skeleton’s skull flying behind her, which Jesse narrowly avoided.

She squinted as she looked above them, taking note of the new wave of moaning monstrosities.

“Do you see anything?” Petra’s reply was late, but being busy with a spider that was determined to eat you would do that.

“What?!” They lurched to the side again, sparks flying as their descent refused to slow. As Jesse steadied herself, yet another creature tried to get the drop on her, and her head was slammed into iron.

And it was just her favorite type too.

The creeper’s hissing grew louder as it trembled. Jesse barely had enough time to knock it off, turning back to Petra immediately afterwards. She set her sword down for a split second, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Can you see anything?!” It exploded, debris flying and the ground shaking as it did. A quick peek behind her showed that a huge gaping hole had been left in the path, jagged rock left sticking through mangled wood.

As if it needed any help.

“You mean besides more mobs? No!” Petra turned to look at her, strands of hair falling into her eyes. There were several heavily bleeding cuts on her face, and what looked like the beginning of a black eye. It took Jesse raising her own hand to her face to realize that she was bleeding too, mostly from her nose.

If it was possible, the route became steeper, and Jesse hardly had a moment to register the unreasonably short incoming ceiling. Her mouth took even longer.

“Hey! Look out for that–!” Petra disappeared from view as her ride submerged, Jesse’s heart plummeting as she ducked. If Petra hadn’t dropped in time…

Her head would’ve been lopped off her body.

Her helmet, no matter how sturdy or enchanted, wouldn’t protect her from that.

_What if she hadn’t, what if her head was resting at the bottom of her cart, what if what if what if-_

Rough stone and granite became polished diorite and quartz, the slope becoming more even as torchlight became visible.

Jesse leapt out as soon as she reached level ground, landing on her knees while the wheels continued to clack behind her. Her fingers pushed against the worn carpet as she stood, a small bit of wool coming undone.

Her shoulders sagged as she saw Petra, in one piece, getting to her feet only a small ways ahead.

The other woman was tackled and given a sloppy kiss on the cheek before Jesse started assessing how damaged she was.

“What was that for?”

_Because you gave me a heart attack and I love you and I can’t believe we’re alive._

“No reason.” There was something exhilarating about the whole thing. Adventure. Now this was what she lived for. Jesse took her by the hand as she headed for the door, Petra not protesting as she followed. “Come on, let’s find Axel and Olivia.”


	181. Dullahan

Doors were barred and curtains closed as the chill of night brought a most frightening sight.

A Dullahan, panicked whispers hissed, was upon the roads, hunting yet again.

Sharp winds cut through trees, which trembled and swayed as the inky clouds overhead rumbled. The moon and stars were concealed, hidden away behind brewing storms, the only source of light being the lightning that struck fierce and fast.

No wolves dared howled, the creatures of the thick forest all silent as a figure cloaked in black raced past upon a stallion as dark as the grave.

He raised his whip, the bones cracking as he brought it down twice in quick succession. The pounding of hooves on cobble doubled in volume and speed, small bursts of fire coming from his steed as it snorted and neighed.

The way began to wind, oak trees thinning in favor of meadows and pastures.

Large, ornate iron gates swung open, the rider entering without so much as a pause.

He passed lush, luxurious gardens, filled with nocturnal plants that curled around the few metal posts. So thick and large were they that it was only once passed that the human eye would be able to see the manor behind them, looming atop an immense hill. Faint light passed through only one of the upper windows, which reflected the great flashes the tempest produced, and to an unobservant passerby it may have appeared deserted.

A Dullahan was not so easily tricked.

Black eyes saw through stone and wood, zeroing in on the beating heart of a being racked by coughs above.

The head the eyes belonged to was raised by a steady hand, lips parting to let an unearthly croaked name spring forth and echo throughout abandoned land.

There was a scream from within the large mansion, piercing and cut short, all candles blowing out as a thud could be heard.

And so death collected another, his servant’s task completed.

No lack was there of wrongdoers, of ruthless liars to be cut down.

It began to drizzle, icy raindrops tossed about by gales in all directions before hitting the ground.

Ivor stepped down from his horse, boots noiseless as they reached the ground. His head was placed atop his shoulders as he stared at the inconsequential lavish display of extravagance before him.

A small pause, and then back to his work he’d be.

Other Fae believed they were beyond such consequences, that they were somehow higher in the eyes of gods.

They were wrong.

The penalty for their actions would come, though the craftier Fae were able to delay such.

The unrelenting stabbing in his chest, the gnawing hunger in his gut, both of which grew every day, reminded him hurriedly of that.

They thought they were so clever, atop their thrones of lies in their castles of gold.

Ivor’s mouth twisted into a sneer, gloved fingers tightening around the whip still in his hand.

Fools.

Soon, the desire, the _need_ , would be enough to overtake the crippling fear.

Then nothing would save them.


	182. Nightmare (Aiden/Jesse)

Now, thinking logically and reasonably, it’s a dream.

Aiden knows that. It’s not some big secret or a lurking suspicion; it’s the truth, plain and simple.

After all, Jesse’s off who knows where, doing who knows what, with the others. She has yet to return, if she ever will. But somehow they’re back in the stormy, explosive atmosphere of the falling apart Sky City, which is impossible. The shrieks of monsters and people, ash and smoke hanging thick and heavy even as it rains, the rumbling as everything falls apart are not new to him.

They’ve done this before, just not like this.

He’s dangling off of an edge, biting wind rushing past and through most of his body, which is hanging in the air, gravity trying to drag his hand, the only thing holding him up, down.

"Never let me go." Those are words he “said” only a moment ago, but there’s a definite change in how he’s saying them.

Another way he knows it’s a dream is the sudden change in scenery, how clunky his plea feels in a situation it no longer belongs in.

Before, he had been with her, the two sharing a warm embrace. Covering each other in kisses, murmuring pointless sweet nothings as they enjoyed one another.

Similarly impossible, but a much more pleasant scenario.

There’s hardly anything warm about Jesse now. Her stare is cold, her touch even more so.

“Please!” The storm is trying to pick him up and toss him away, and she isn’t doing anything.

Why? Oh, he knows damn well why.

He’s begging a fantasy, a woman that doesn’t really exist.

Jesse’s real –he thinks- but this version of her isn’t.

So why does it hurt when she grins, a nasty twisted smile that doesn’t fit her, and lets go all at once?

His fingers slip, despite his best efforts, and there’s a high pitched giggle when Jesse steps back.

There’s no pool of water to save him, and the fall both takes an eternity and is over in an instant. His body shatters as he hits unforgiving land, neck giving a sickening crack on impact. It’s as if he’s on fire, writhing before going limp. Agony is a light way to put it. Aiden’s sprawled out on the ground, the edges of his vision darkening by the second, and all attempts at movement result in shooting, painful failure. His limbs do not respond, his fingers clawing at dirt. His breathing is getting more and more ragged, becoming the only thing he can hear.

Aiden’s eyes snap open as he lurches awake, short shaky breaths coming fast, lungs burning for air and eyes stinging as they begin to water.

His fingers grip the hard lumber of his bunk, skin digging into etch marks made by him, the snoring of two others, familiar and uninterrupted, reminding him well and truly of where he is.

As if the iron bars, glinting in moonlight that snakes through the small holes in the doors, haven’t already.


	183. Jailbreak

The morning had started normally enough: Get up, study, have breakfast with Mother, “accidentally” lose her shoes afterwards so she could walk to and climb one of the trees barefoot, and think of new ways to pass the time when rereading her favorite book for the millionth time didn’t work.

Then it had gone beyond odd, far past slightly out of the ordinary into full blown bizarre, when three strangers, equipped with enchanted weapons and armor, had arrived with warnings.

Followed by the subjects of their cautions building a dirt bridge, complete with skull and lava, into the city.

It had been the most exciting thing to happen to Jesse in a very long while. It certainly broke up the monotony of the typical everyday routine, if nothing else.

The mere idea of another world was incredible. The fact that the Blaze Rods were apparently stranded didn’t change how crazy it was.

Then she had seen the duo that had been caught, who had come willingly. She had been present when her mother had questioned them and talked.

Looking back on Aiden’s account of events, Jesse couldn’t help but find more and more holes that didn’t line up at all with the two people she’d seen before.

It sounded too well crafted, like he was telling a story.

Burning trees for fun, hoarding treasures, taming wild animals to chase innocents-

No one, no group, could feasibly commit all of those crimes. No human being could be so careless, so vile.

The blond was entirely friendly and cordial, and, while the older paler man had been more belligerent, neither seemed the type.

Aiden’s anger and worry also felt fabricated, and left a bitter taste in her mouth when coupled with their suspicious behavior and total disregard for anyone, including Reginald, who wasn’t her mother.

Upon being gifted generously with a large supply of carrots, perhaps one of the best possible rewards to be given, the look of utter confusion and annoyance on their faces, however brief, had been clear.

The, honestly, sleazy groveling afterwards had not helped their cases.

Maybe it was different where they were from, but Jesse doubted it.

Mother was smarter than that. She, so careful about everything, so paranoid and protective, could see through almost any ruse.

Yet she believed them, sending the members of the “Order of the Stone” to a jail cell.

Jesse couldn’t figure it out for the life of her.

The most heinous offense to have been committed since the forming of Sky City, to her knowledge, was someone dropping an entire block of dirt into the void.

To be accused of treason, illegal building, and all the previously mentioned misconducts from their own world- whether or not they would get to be released in the first place was the question, not how long until.

This called for drastic measures.

Visiting prisoners before had by no means really interested her, never mind how furious her mother would’ve been if she had.

When she’d been younger, though, she’d pretended to patrol the passages as she’d seen the guards do. After growing up and spending years in the same building, she had been forced, by her own curiosity and need to keep sane, to learn where everything went, was, and why.

Jesse walked quietly down the hall, her simplest shoes making little noise, the line of torches along the way providing plenty of light that the now setting sun couldn’t.

She watched as Reginald marched away in the opposite direction, grumbling about something, leaving the convicts alone.

Perfect.

* * *

As much as Jesse suspected Aiden and his Blaze Rods, it didn’t mean she was automatically going to trust the pair.

So she listened on the other side of the door, watching through the bars as they gave her a quick version of what they claimed had happened and their side of the story.

It made sense.

If Lukas was telling the truth, Benedict was in serious trouble concerning Aiden’s greed and jealousy. They all were.

And they just couldn’t let that happen.

Jesse froze, right hand wrapped around the wooden part of the lever, as someone began tapping their foot behind her.

She didn’t have to turn around to know it was the captain of the guard; it was something she’d grown up knowing meant she’d officially screwed up.

“Does your mother know where you are?”  It was a rhetorical question. They both knew how well she would take it if she knew, how much trouble Jesse would be in if he told Mother.

Thankfully, Reginald was not a snitch.

Usually, at least. Somehow, this seemed a _bit_ bigger than him not revealing who pilfered the cookie jar.

Jesse turned to him, still holding onto the switch.

“I’m letting them out.” Her mouth felt dry, but Jesse didn’t look away.

“You can’t do that.” His brow furrowed, but his tone wasn’t that of an angry captain. She could handle that better than the “I-am-so-disappointed-in-you-you-know-better” she was getting.

"Actually, I can, and I will." It seemed it was a night for rash words and rebellion. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Jesse.” He thought otherwise, as if his narrowing eyes didn’t make that clear. “You are going to march right on out of here and straight to your room.”

“What happened to helping the Blaze Rods with security?” Jesse chose to change subjects, raising an eyebrow.

“I was going to, before I noticed you trying to sneak in here.” She cringed. Okay, so not as clever as she’d thought.

“We both know Aiden’s up to no good.” He faltered there, looking away this time.

“The Founder trusts him, and that’s all I need.” The words sounded more like something he’d been rehearsing. Mentally, he probably had to keep from strangling Aiden.

“Listen to me! He’s going to steal the Eversource!” Lukas was beside the door, fingers curling around the iron bars.

Ivor scoffed, crossing his arms. From what Jesse could tell, he was the snarkier of the two.

“You thought he was here for a vacation, maybe?”

If she knew the guard at all like she thought she did, Jesse was willing to bet he distrusted the Blaze Rods as much as she did.

“Please, Uncle Reggie?” Aaaand there it was. He winced at her pleading, shoulders slumping momentarily before he straightened up again.

“Fine. I hope you know what you’re doing.” He glared at Lukas and Ivor, jaw set, jabbing a finger at them. “And if you so much as think about hurting her-”

He didn’t have his position for no reason; most of the defense and combat Jesse knew had been taught to her by both him and her mother. If he wanted to hurt them, he could.

“We won’t!” Lukas grinned as he brought his hands up before putting them down, laugh shaky.

Jesse grinned as he nodded and walked away, his eyes averted.

Once he was out of sight, the door swung open.

Now it was time to get down to business.


	184. Desperate

Mud squelched under Lukas’s boots, the muck pulling at him with every step as he trudged through the drizzle with a covered Jesse in his arms.

He paid no mind to the slamming of doors as he walked by, his concentration on a single destination. The brunette in his arms twisted, and he tried to move faster as the wind blew harder.

Honestly, Lukas hadn’t expected to come back to this world. At least, not until they’d made it home.

Their search for a way back, which from the beginning had seemed impossible amongst the dozens of portals, had been hoped to take them a month at most.

Three hundred and sixty seven days later, no luck. The journal he kept was full of scratches, and it had been an odd sort of empty that had struck him when only two days ago they’d passed the year mark.

How home was doing he didn’t know. Where it was could’ve been anywhere. How Axel and Olivia were he couldn’t even begin to guess.

It was a miracle the four of them were alive, but that didn’t mean things were safe back in their world. Anything could’ve happened.

It wasn’t that no one would come looking for them, trying to find them.

It was that, in all likelihood, they couldn’t. Who else knew of the portal, or where to look? The old order, the new, everyone else, they were all left in the dark.

So far the stranded group’s travels had lead them to multiple worlds, most hostile towards them for a number of reasons. If the people weren’t, then the environment certainly was.

Jesse, for example, had been struck by a painful disease during their most recent trip, and the four of them had been chased for their abnormalities.

Who knew not having a tail was a cause for serious concern?

Petra had been captured in the resulting chaos while distracting and holding off the knights chasing them down, Lukas barely getting away with an unconscious and pale Jesse in tow. Ivor, who bitterly cursed their lack of supplies and equipment, had managed to slip past simply by not being with them when Jesse had collapsed. He had been searching for potion ingredients, with unfortunately none to be found.

They had no way to treat Jesse, and every second that went by was another Petra was in danger. The ruler of the keep they had been visiting was apparently known for brutal tactics.

However, the former citizens of Sky City, inhabitants of a practically untouched world, didn’t know sickness. Everyone’s immune systems would be easy prey to the illness she currently carried.

The last thing anyone wanted was an epidemic, but Jesse not dying was important.

So, they compromised, sending messages through the portal, and Lukas had ended up going to the one person he’d never wanted to see again.

“Reformed” or not, out of jail or not, that didn’t change that Aiden was a traitor and had tried to kill him, Jesse, and Isa. He’d almost killed everyone who lived in Sky City, had let his envy and stupidity tear it apart.

Hell, Lukas would’ve been more comfortable leaving Jesse with Maya or Gill, as much trouble as they’d caused and as little as he wanted to do with them.

Unluckily, the two of them were away helping a lookout group track down some sort of monster.

His fingers rapped on the wooden door, Lukas taking a step back as the subject of his discontent opened it.

"Aiden, I swear if you try anything..." He cut off Aiden’s greeting as he slowly put Jesse down on the prepared bed, flames roaring in the fireplace beside her.

"Listen, I'm not gonna hurt Jesse! I like her now." Aiden grinned, chuckling as he closed the door. Lukas knew he’d been informed earlier by what to look out for regarding Jesse’s condition, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to pull something.

"That's what worries me." The words were muttered as Lukas glared at the other man. He straightened up, raising his voice as he returned to the entry. He and Ivor were supposed to be leaving to get Petra back any minute now; he couldn’t waste any more time. “No funny business, right?”

“Right, right, you got it.” The reassurance was lost to the howling gusts as Lukas stepped back outside.


	185. Morning (Jesse/Petra)

When Petra woke up, the sun had yet to rise, the world dark. A light breeze from the window that had been left open to battle the high temperatures of the previous day blew quietly over the crisp sheets. Jesse, not yet awake, had most of the blankets, though Petra could hardly complain.

Yesterday had been beyond sweltering, and in the warm bed there was hardly a lack of heat.

Normally, she would’ve already left to get to work, but she had nothing that needed to be done right now.

So Petra focused her attention on her girlfriend.

She watched the way Jesse’s chest rose and fell, how she held her pillow close with a hand. The blanket was draped around her shoulders, wool covering all but her face, which was framed by her dark brown curls.

It wasn’t until Jesse spoke, when the first bits of sunlight began to pour in, that Petra realized she’d woken up.

"Do you always make that face when I'm not looking?" Jesse’s eyes opened slowly as she spoke, voice quiet but easy to hear.

“What face?” Petra raised an eyebrow, her hand finding Jesse’s beneath the blanket.

“The one you were just making! You know, the goofy one?” Petra grinned at the description, letting go of Jesse’s hand.

“This is coming from the dork queen?” She chuckled as Jesse stretched before curling back in on herself.

“I may have to give that title to you, if you keep that up.” Jesse smiled at the redhead, propping herself up on her elbow. “Seriously, it’s really cute.”

“Sure it is.” Petra covered a yawn as she sat up, moving her bare feet so that they were over the edge and on the spruce floor. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go-”

She was cut off by Jesse grabbing her arm and yanking her back.

“No you’re not.” Jesse not only pulled her down, but she also pulled Petra closer to her, the covers bunching slightly between them. Those sessions with Gabriel were paying off, though they both knew that Petra could easily escape if she wanted to. “You’re going to stay here and let me tell you all the ways I think you’re cute.”

There was that word again. “Cute” was used for sweet little things, like kittens or puppies. People like Jesse were cute. Petra?

Hahaha, _no_. If you were blind and deaf, maybe. Not likely.

“Is that so?” Petra turned to Jesse, her arms wrapping around the brunette the way the other’s limbs were already around her. Jesse leaned in, pressing her lips up against Petra’s cheek, mumbling as she did.

“Mm-hmm.” They stayed that way until the sun was above the mountains, Jesse’s muttered list and kisses not pausing once.


	186. Confusion

There was nothing worrying about a cold. Annoying, sure, but nothing to be concerned over.

The sniffling and sore throat had plagued Jesse for less than a day when staying upright had become harder.

She ignored the dizziness in favor of getting to business and helping her friends as they poked around the odd keep. It wasn’t anything serious. It would pass.

Except that it hadn’t.

In fact, it had only gotten worse. The room had stopped spinning and tilting in favor of full on crashing, taking Jesse down to the ground with it. She had been limp on the ground, breathing slowing and vision fading, as chaos erupted.

It sounded and felt like her head was full of cotton, hardly any of the words she registered actually understandable. Something she managed to pick out was-

Aiden? Wasn’t he back on Isa’s world?

Maybe her ears were off. It would explain why she hadn’t heard anything from Petra.

She’d started dozing in and out until rudely awakened by a good deal of chilling wind and icy rain.

It hadn’t lasted for long, though, replaced quickly with a dry environment.

Jesse wasn’t sure when they’d gone from being hunted to somehow securing a nice warm house, but she wasn’t complaining. The bed was small, but cozy, thick blankets enveloping her and keeping the bitter cold away.

The fireplace did that too. At least, she thought the crackling and snapping she could make out was from a fireplace. Otherwise, she was simply hearing things and in a wonderfully blazing bed.

Jesse didn’t know how much time passed before she staggered upright, hand covering her mouth as coughs wracked her body.

A cup, ceramic cool compared to the snug cocoon she’d made, was slowly pressed into her hands as the hacking subsided. Jesse’s eyes remained shut as she used one arm to push herself up as the other held onto the drink, the sugary taste of hot tea rolling soon down her throat.

Opening her eyes meant struggling against her heavy eyelids and letting stabbing light in again. Mmm, no thank you.

What would she see anyways? Probably wobbly blurs.

Jesse merely took a few more sips, running her tongue over her teeth when she was done.

She had no idea how they had that either- It was one of Ivor’s better brews, that was certain.

What remained was taken away as she laid back and turned onto her side.

Moments later, a hand was stroking her hair, fingers gently rubbing her head repeatedly.

It must’ve been Lukas.

Jesse leaned into the touch, letting the comfort lull her off into sleep’s sweet clutches.


	187. Hybrid

“Listen, Lukas was just a lonely loser who didn't fit in with anybody; nobody else here is a hybrid! _Especially_ not me!" The mirror reflected his glare, the wind outside picking up and howling as it rushed through town. The lie was repeated multiple times in his head. _Not me_. _Not me_. _Not me_. “Get a grip, Aiden, you’re losing it. Shake it off.”

He’d considered sleeping with his contacts on, for fear of someone finding him without them. In his mind it was all too easy to see someone realizing what his eyes, with their slit pupils, meant.

It was ridiculous. He was alone, he’d double checked that the door was locked, and one of the first things he did anyway when he woke up was pop them back in.

In all of his time hiding, blending in, no one had discovered what he was. A few people thought he was a bigot and a jerk, titles he’d gladly take if it meant putting mutants where they belonged, but average.

There had been one close call, about three years ago. Aiden had been tired, not paying attention, so the sudden tickle attack Maya’d used against him had caught him off guard.

While laughing, his tongue, forked and far too dark, had flickered out only for a moment before he’d clamped his mouth shut. He’d been sure he’d blown it.

It had been worse than the time he’d accidentally hugged Gill too tight and almost choked him.

Thankfully, none of them had seen. Maya had been convinced he was merely grumpy and had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed when he scowled at her.

Aiden had been much more careful after that.

A hand absentmindedly went to his forearm, rubbing at his jacket.

Not only had one of his best friends turned out to be a hybrid, but he had begun to shed.

Wonderful. Even without suspicions being up, it was a pain to hide. The patches would flake, slowly and constantly demanding scratching.

Aiden had tried tearing them out before, when he was younger, to permanently get rid of them.

His mother had found him hours later, curled up on the ground surrounded by his own scales and crying like a baby.

That was over ten years ago. He knew now that it didn’t work- the scales grew back after two or three sheddings, and the skin left behind after yanking them out was raw and wouldn’t be able to blend in anyhow.

Sticking to long and heavy clothing, even in the summer heat, was the only surefire way. Not a single hybrid lived in town, and they’d know immediately what to do if they noticed.

If Lukas had hid for years though, for as long as Aiden had known him and likely longer…

What was to say others couldn’t be hiding?

Odd little things began to piece themselves together.

The dark circles that were always under Gill’s eyes, no matter how well he seemed to sleep, his odd diet, or how Maya insisted she “liked wearing baggier pants”, the same way Lukas had before, the gloves she wore every day-

Aiden’s knuckles cracked as his fists tightened, and he took in a sharp breath before he grit his teeth.

He needed to stop. He was trying to make perfectly normal people into freaks like him.

If Lukas wanted to run around with his ears and tail for all to see, like some wild animal, that was his choice.

Aiden took out his contacts, setting them down beside his bed before he slipped under the sheets.

Lukas clearly wanted ridicule and insults tossed his way while he goofed about with his amalgamation friends; he knew what he was doing.

Some people didn’t have that _luxury_.

Aiden turned to his side, pulling the blankets up to his shoulder with a grumble.

Maya and Gill were good, ordinary human beings. They were all he needed- and unlike Lukas, Aiden was going to do his best to stick with them. They had lost a leader already, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if they found out he was a hybrid too.

How quickly would they turn on him?

Aiden shouldn’t have worried about taking out his contacts.

He didn’t sleep that night.


	188. Pillow

Gabriel sat on the couch as he shut his eyes, a thin blanket drawn up to his shoulders, the heat from the fireplace weak and its light dim. He had thrown more fuel upon it less than an hour ago, but the blaze burned through the logs swiftly. The snores of his friends carried through the halls, crashing and clashing to make a cacophony of slumber. The world outside was dark, stars and moon setting and vanishing, creatures of the night hooting and howling as they returned to their homes in the thick forest.

He turned as Ivor entered, the enchanter wearing rather casual clothing compared to his usual robes.

The seat sank slightly as he sat down beside the warrior, a steaming mug, filled with a light green strong smelling tea, in one hand and a half eaten cookie in the other.

“You’ll forgive me if I say it may be time for you to cut back on the treats?” Gabriel chuckled as Ivor turned to him with an eyebrow raised. The sweater he wore hid little, though it would be unfair to claim it was unflattering on the alchemist.

“Ha.” Ivor’s response was dry as he picked up the decrepit novel that sat on the small table beside the couch, opening it to where a faded bookmark was sticking out. “Good morning to you too, Gabriel.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the dying fire crackling every now and then.

It was not until Gabriel yawned as he leaned against his friend’s warm shoulder, his eyelids hard to keep open, that one of them spoke again.

“Did you get _any_ sleep last night?” Ivor did not look up from his book as he asked, fingers pausing before they turned another page. Judging on tone alone, he honestly wasn’t sure.

Gabriel shook his head before stifling another yawn.

“Not much, I’m afraid.” He had essentially collapsed upon reaching the couch, but had awoken what, according to the clock above the flames, was an hour later. “The training with Jesse went on longer than expected.”

Much longer. They had started after dinner, when the sun was above the rolling hills and treetops, and had only finished when the moon had passed its highest point in the cloudless sky. She was getting stronger by the day, her techniques and speed improving as much as her stamina and wit, and time had rushed by quickly until it had left two sore fighters panting and sweating in the chill. He could beat Jesse without issue, despite how rusty he was, but she was an enjoyable opponent.

“Who, I notice, is still sleeping.” The brunette had retreated to her quarters, sounding as weary as Gabriel had felt. “If she wakes up before noon, it will surprise me. I expected you to be asleep too, Gabriel.”

The reminder was not quite sharp, though it was there, coupled with an unspoken question.

Why was he awake?

It was odd-

Gabriel had spent plenty of time tossing and turning, trying desperately to be comfortable before accepting quiet relaxation as an alternative. Something about the room had felt off, and yet his limbs were too tired for him to seriously consider returning to his own room.

Now it seemed sleep couldn’t take him fast enough.

Gradually, his breathing slowed, and the area began to disappear, splotches of inky shadows overtaking it bit by bit.

* * *

When Gabriel opened his eyes again, the room was bathed in bright golden sunlight passing through the large, unobstructed windows, and he was now lying on his back, his head propped up a tad. Lively noises came from the kitchen and the upstairs, ranging from chatter to laughter to footsteps running on stone and wood. It was hard to tell if someone was cooking or trying out large explosives,

It took longer than it should have for him to realize that the soft, wooly cushion he was using happened to be a person.

Ivor had continued reading, though one of his hands held up the book while another rested on Gabriel’s side, moving from time to time to change the page. Whatever story it was didn’t seem to have him particularly interested, but it wasn’t bad enough for him to discard it yet.

He’d done that a lot when they were younger. Many a time, an unfulfilling or frustrating tale had ended up hurled at the wall in a fit of anger.

Hopefully he would refrain from doing so with someone resting more or less in his lap.

Speaking of which…

“You make a far better pillow now.” Gabriel grinned up at the potioneer, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Shut up, Gabriel.” There was no bite to his words, and, had there been, it would’ve been softened by the small smile that immediately followed.


	189. Protective (Aiden/Jesse)

Petra hardly tolerated Aiden as it was, so her suggestion that the two of them take a walk alone was more than a bit alarming. With how busy the others were with Isa, though, there hadn’t been much reason to say no.

They were strolling around the lake outside of town, Aiden getting tenser the longer the silence endured.

“Let me ask you a question, alright? I want you to answer honestly.” He turned his head towards her, the two not stopping. She was looking at him with what could only be described as a scowl trying desperately not to show. "Are you hurting the one you love?"

“What?” Where had that come from?

“Jesse gets to see you- What? Once a month?” It fluctuated frequently, with how unpredictable the portals could be. Sometimes Jesse would return after a week, but there had been more than one occasion where another visit had taken more than two months. “With you on her mind, she gets distracted. Nearly got decapitated yesterday.”

Aiden’s brow furrowed at the lackluster explanation.

“Oh, come on! You’re going to blame that on me?” There were natural dangers that came with exploring and trying to find the portal to their world. Last week they had all apparently barely missed being disemboweled. Aiden worried about his girlfriend, sure, but he knew she could take care of herself.

“She was too busy with her head in the clouds, Romeo, to worry about staying alive!” Petra took in a deep breath, glare vanishing in favor of half lidded eyes and a frown. “Yeah, I’d say that’s your fault.”

“Petra, you’re being unreasonable.” Aiden didn’t need the fighter messing with his love life. He was finally starting to build his life back up, out of prison and as helpful as he could be to the other residents of the settlement, and here Petra was telling him it wasn’t enough. He’d probably have raised his voice if he didn’t know how quickly she could slice him in half with her sword.

“Maybe. But Jesse’s going to crack if you two keep this up.” Petra shrugged before narrowing her eyes. “And if she does, I swear to Notch I will be the first to find and kill you.”

She gave him a pat on the back, her tone softer when she spoke again.

“Think about it.”

He shook his head as the redhead headed back to where they had last seen the others.

Petra meant well. Maybe. For Jesse, anyway. She was being overprotective. Aiden wasn’t endangering Jesse.

Was he?


	190. Sickly

It was, in Jesse’s mind, a solid fact that it was impossible for her to regret her decision to join her new friends. There was something about them that got her attention and kept it, something about the way they all interacted, joked, and protected one another. Something that made her want to stay with them and help them, that told her not to let them go without her.

True, she missed her mother, her home, the things and people she had grown up with, but it did not outweigh the utter happiness and joy she found with her companions. The exploits were beyond her wildest dreams, and, at times, theirs as well. They met so many new people, witnessed crazy rituals and environments that had to be seen to be believed. (The rock slinger settlement of Vangate was still her favorite, though the rushing falls in Frostbrook were definitely a close second.)

They had rarely gotten a moment’s rest, always running after or from someone, trying to save an item or a person, in combat or trying to avoid it. In short, it was everything Jesse could’ve hoped it to be and more. There were no dull moments, not with them.

However, the sicknesses she could absolutely do without. She hadn’t had to worry about it before in Sky City, where everything was pretty much as sterile as could be.

Her incredibly hygienic upbringing turned out to be a bit of a disadvantage when it came to traversing grimier areas.

Waking up with an aching head and a throat drier than a desert and as rough as sand wasn’t fun. Jesse had asked Ivor if it was the aftereffects of one of his potions, and if the reason they all weren’t so sluggish was because they were used to it.

They were used to it, alright.

There was a veritable goldmine of illnesses that wanted to latch onto her too, and did almost as soon as the first virus passed.

The first time Jesse had encountered vomiting, she’d been sure she was going to die. Her stomach had lurched and turned, and her inside were trying to claw their way up her throat. Her friends had been there to help her out, calming her down however they could, but Jesse hadn’t been able to do much during that adventure.

She had asked at one point if it was possible to be permanently stuck with a case of the “flu”, as her friends called it.

Then they had found the way back to their home, to what would be Jesse’s new one. The portal had been basic and small, made of simple polished rocks, but according to all of their sources it was what they were looking for.

It was to a hero’s welcome they were treated, and everyone seemed positively thrilled to have their champions back. No one objected to Jesse being there either, despite her being an outsider. It already was so unlike the multitude of places they’d been.

She had spent so long wondering, trying to piece together an image in her mind based off of what she could gather and was told- It couldn’t compare to the actual thing.

They had greeted Ivor’s friends, the ones he had spoken little of yet clearly missed, who had rightly wanted to know where they had been as well as who Jesse was.

Unfortunately, Jesse had spent less than a day in her new home when she’d been struck down by violent nausea and coughing. It took her down quick and hard, hitting in bouts that continued to get worse. Whether or not it was a bug from this realm or the last she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t change that she was essentially out of commission.

Or that she had almost fallen flat on her face before Axel and Lukas had yanked her back up, the room they’d been chatting in going black.

When she opened her eyes again, body stiff and sore, she was in an unfamiliar bed, her friends surrounding her. So many eyes on her at once was unnerving, but the concern practically hitting her in waves was touching.

Jesse had been given medication by Ivor that had sent her back to the land of Nod faster than someone could have with a spike covered sledgehammer.

It was nowhere near as populated when she awoke.

Torch and firelight lit the room, drawing Jesse’s attention to the only other person there, blocking most of the light from that direction.

“Petra?” The miner looked up from her half sharpened weapon, smiling.

She apparently had been expecting the question that Jesse couldn’t quite force through her sandpaper throat.

“We’re taking shifts. Axel and I are taking this one.” The redhead set the glowing diamond sword beside her oak chair as she explained. “Some of us have things we need to get to, and we figured you could use a little space.”

Jesse tilted her head as she blearily looked around. Axel was not the sort of fellow who could easily hide in the room, even if he wanted to, yet she couldn’t see him.

“He just left. He’s getting you some tea.” As if on cue, there were several footsteps, loud in the way footsteps were when someone was trying desperately to be quiet but failing miserably, and a knock on the door. Axel poked his head in, grinning when he saw Jesse.

The mug of tea he handed her was sweet, warm to the touch and taste.

“Thank you.” The words were croaked out once she finished, but they heard her all the same.

“No problem.” Axel was standing near the end of the bed, his back to the wall as he leaned on it.

“Get some more sleep, Jesse.” Petra took the mug out of her hands and placed it on the table next to the bed.

She fell asleep listening to Axel’s jokes, many of which she wished to laugh at but could only smile, and the sound of whetstone against blade.


	191. Hangover

Hangovers weren’t new to Jesse, and she had a good suspicion of what was causing the pounding in both her heart and head.

The curtains, long and heavy, were drawn, and yet the shadows that encompassed her room continued to stab her between her eyes. She felt immobile, as if moving beneath the blankets was impossible.

The room itself wasn’t quite upright or stable, and trying to make it so merely succeeded in making it spin.

She turned to her companion, sitting beside the bed with a book. Lukas had his legs crossed, one of his feet bouncing.

“Did I drink too much?” Jesse’s mouth was drier than a bone, and it surprised her that the words made it out.

They had been having fun at the local bar, happy with another successful abandoned temple raid and monster slaughter. Given how little of the actual celebrating she could remember, it wasn’t hard to guess what that meant.

“That’s one way to put it.” Lukas placed the thin paperback down, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her. “I’m surprised you’re speaking, miss seven dozen beers.”

“Says the lightweight.” Lukas rarely drank alcohol as it was- she couldn’t remember if he’d even had more than one beer last night.

“The lightweight that was smart enough _not_ to try drinking Axel under the table.” Jesse winced, foggy memories slowly piecing together.

“We were pretty drunk already.” She had been, anyway. Jesse was willing to bet that her giant friend was doing just fine. It took a lot to get Axel buzzed, never mind smashed.

Lukas was less than impressed.

“Well, you managed to make it to ‘really drunk’. Congrats.”

Jesse didn’t reply as she scrambled to the edge of the bed, emptying the contents of her stomach into the metal bucket that sat on the floor.


	192. Underestimated

Sunlight, pouring through generous gaps in white puffy clouds, filtered through the swaying leaves of dancing trees and onto the grassy meadows that surrounded a sturdy stone temple.

The Order of the Stone was busy, but not in the expected “training to slay an almighty dragon” way.

It was more of a “taking care of normal business while the weather was so nice” thing.

Gabriel was visiting family a few towns away, a sister and some second cousins he hadn’t seen in over a month. Ellegaard and Soren were going over invention and build ideas in the basement, surrounded by piles of redstone and more blueprints than any sane person could count, which meant they would likely not resurface until long after dark.

Ivor was in his natural habitat, busy with a potion he had spent weeks preparing for, and woe to the poor, suicidal idiot who grew weary of happily living and disturbed him.

And Magnus?

He had been lucky enough to wake up exhausted and in pain, with a horribly familiar ache in his bones that could only be cause by some virus or other.

He hadn’t said a word about it, though he hadn’t had to.

It was easier to retreat to his room, under thick cotton covers in a bed that could’ve swallowed him alive for all he cared, than it was to kvetch about it to the others. Magnus knew by now that no potion could cure sicknesses, it’d have to run its course, and the way simply lifting his head made his stomach lurch and try to crawl out of his throat made complaining a more daunting task than it was worth.

Everyone else was so wrapped up with their own plans that there was no talk of breakfast or group activities.

Small blessings.

As Magnus drifted off to sleep, the hammering in his skull and the stabbing in his gut refused to fade.

He awoke to a chilly hand on his forehead, and he leaned into the cooling touch without a second thought. His head had become a volcano without him knowing it, his body roasting alive.

There were the unmistakable growls of the wild Ivor, muttered insults practically a holy chant at this point. How many different ways the enchanter could pronounce and couple “fool” with other words Magnus didn’t know, but the list grew ever longer.

A glass bottle was pressed to his lips, Magnus slowly drinking the contents. It was harder than it should’ve been, his neck straining to keep his head up. Nonetheless, soon the sweet taste wouldn’t leave his tongue as it oozed down his throat.

Healing potion.

What in Notch’s name was Ivor up to?

The alchemist rarely left his own laboratory, especially when dealing with an experiment so looked forward to. Was his concoction finished already?

“How long have you been perfecting this level of stupid?” Ivor crossed his arms, boot tapping rapidly on the carpeted floor.

“Didn’t botha ya with it.” His voice was rougher than normal, the sentences slurring. “What’re ya doin in my room?”

“I was going to ask if you’d like to join me for lunch- and a good thing, too. Do you have any idea how high your fever was?” Magnus brought his shoulders up before letting them slump in a half shrug. Ivor raised an eyebrow, waiting another moment before one of his hands fell to his side while the other was brought up to Ivor’s face. Two of his fingers were almost touching, a tiny gap all that separated them. “We were this close to losing you.”

Oh.

Magnus stared back down at the bed as his fingers dug into the sheets, his vision having trouble focusing.

He didn’t whine about it and it almost got him killed.

Fucking figured.

Ivor set another potion beside Magnus’s bed, turning to leave before the other man spoke up.

“Hey, Ivor?” The potioneer froze, hand on the doorknob. “Thanks.”

He looked over his shoulder, back at Magnus, his scowl gone.

“You’re welcome.”


	193. Rest (Petra/Soren/Ivor)

Soren yawned as he buried his head into Ivor’s side, his grip around the other man’s waist tightening slightly as he stretched.

The storm last night, which involved howling winds, booming thunder, hail the size of explosives, and had lasted from dusk until dawn, had been enough to wake the dead, and as such few got any sleep. This led to what could best be described as a unanimous lazy day.

He, Petra, and Ivor had taken up residence on the couch, while others had chosen to stick to their own beds or, the much rarer option, gone out to do something that would hopefully remove the fatigue from their systems.

They were, for lack of a better word, entangled in a jumble upon the sofa. Their bodies were vertical, diagonal, and horizontal all at once, with their limbs sticking out at odd angles while snores filled the air.

The architect turned to place a kiss on the cheek of the redhead beside him, smaller ones that followed trailing up the side of her face.

Petra’s head was on Soren’s shoulder, one of her arms draped lazily over Ivor. Her nose twitched, lips parting every now and then to let a nonsensical mutter pass.

Ivor was almost entirely curled up on himself, one of his legs intertwined with both Soren’s and Petra’s. His snores were quiet, and once in a while one of his bony, frozen hands found Soren’s warmer, meatier one.

The blanket that had once barely covered them had been tossed off and now could be found resting crumpled up on the floor, a muddied boot and a worn shoe with it.

Soren looked from one of his companions to the other, an easy smile slipping onto his face.

To think, they were his.

He wouldn’t have them any other way.


	194. Missing

Olivia’s eyes may as well have been held down by pins and needles when she came to, icy winds carrying away chilled ashes and faded smoke. What she saw was a mess of blurs and smears, and it took a few seconds for the inventor to realize someone was holding her up.

No mystery who.

Even if the large hands and worn hoodie hadn’t given it away, there wasn’t anyone else it could’ve been.

“What happened?” Olivia stood up with some assistance, legs shaky but able to keep her upright. Surrounding them was the remains of a forest, craters now littering the ground and snow tossed about.

“You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” The joking was forced, his smirk too fixed.

“Axel.” He looked away, smile fading.

“More crazies tried to kill us.” Olivia’s shoulders slumped as she continued to stare at the wreckage.

Right.

Why had she bothered asking? It wasn’t as if it was ever anything else nowadays.

Rumors had begun to spread that half of the order was dead, lost during some adventure covered up by the surviving members. Even if they weren’t true, the fact still stood that only two members were currently out and about.

And when the cat was away…

The actual encounter was gradually coming back to Olivia.

They had been on their way to Silsi, a city renowned for the divination skills of those within and its large spy network, to see if they could find out where their friends had gone.

She and Axel had instead found rubble where the metropolis had once proudly stood, and were ambushed immediately by the griefers who had apparently been sifting through the debris and scavenging.

They’d had more explosives than a dog had hairs, and they’d easily outnumbered Axel and Olivia with more than half a dozen on their side.

It was after they’d started dodging and outmaneuvering their tosses that her memory became fuzzy once more.

“One of their firework stars landed right at your feet and ya fell flat. I’m lucky I caught you. I don’t think it actually hit you- did it?” Axel put a hand on her shoulder as he looked her up and down with renewed attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really.” Olivia winced as her ankle chose then to disagree with her. Axel crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “A little sore, but fine.”

“U-huh.” He dragged it out, tone dry. Convinced, he was not.

They didn’t have any items to heal with; admitting it wouldn’t fix anything.

Ivor had been the source of most of their potions before he vanished, and afterwards they’d taken to buying some from the various towns and outposts they visited.

The plan had been to purchase some from a merchant in Silsi, but, obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

“What happened to them?” She recognized the gleam in his eye as she changed the subject.

“Eh, they won’t be messing with us again.” He grinned at her, teeth showing. “You’d be surprised what a little TNT can do. Sent ‘em running home faster than the last group.”

Likely more leisurely than the next, too.

And there would be a next; Olivia knew better than to delude herself into thinking otherwise.

The two of them began walking, side by side, down what endured of the road that had led them here.

It was frightening, how many groups and gangs wanted them dead. It wasn’t that they’d done anything wrong; it was that they were aiding people that certain others would rather they not.

Someone always needed help, whether it was because of deadly monsters or cruel people.

The trouble was juggling helping them out, protecting their own home, and searching for their missing friends.

Jesse, Petra, and Ivor had all disappeared in the summer, when the days were long and scorching.

Axel and Olivia had started looking then and hadn’t stopped since.

It was winter now, freezing and bitter, and there was no sight of their friends or Ivor.

Olivia was loathe to go down the conspiracy theory path, but a few timely happenstances wouldn’t leave her mind.

Such as the detail that the “Blaze Rods” hadn’t been seen since the last time their group was whole, when they’d made their threats.

It was probably a coincidence.

Petra and Jesse could hold their own, especially against a coward like Aiden.

If the Blaze Rods had managed to surprise them, though, the same way Axel and Olivia had been today…

Olivia shook her head.

They didn’t know, though Notch knew they’d been trying to figure it out.

They couldn’t say for sure.

Calloused hands picked the engineer, dwelling deeper in thought, up as she was lifted into Axel’s arms, Olivia leaning forward at the unexpected action.

“Axel!” He rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“You’re too slow.” Olivia narrowed her eyes at him, huffing at the explanation. “Come on, we’ll get a healing potion at home.”

She sighed as she rested her head against his chest, nudging him gently one last time with her elbow. He had a point.

They both looked like they needed one.

While they were alive, it wasn’t as if they’d escaped without injury. Olivia could feel the bruises beginning to form as nicks on her skin continued to ache, never mind what was going on with her ankle, and there were a multitude of cuts scattered about the visible parts of Axel’s skin. There was one in particular on the side of his face, thin, deep, and jagged down his cheek.

She wondered how many of them would scar. They’d been amassing more and more of those, no matter how careful or paranoid they tried to be.

People kept getting the drop on them- Axel had compared it to being in Boom Town.

Hopefully they would make it back without that happening this time.

The sun was stuck between noon and sunset, the short day almost over.

If the two of them were lucky enough to not be delayed, they’d be there right before nightfall.

She could already see them stumbling past the large walls and into the temple.

They’d probably fall asleep in her workshop, wake up before dawn again, and head out for another day of poking around and asking questions.

Technically there was nothing wrong with their own bedrooms, but…

A bed in one of the upper rooms didn’t feel right. The two cots Olivia had down by her supplies were comfier, as odd as that sounded and as little sense as it made.

They could sit side by side next to one of the roaring furnaces she kept down there, falling asleep snuggling with one another. The workshop, though large, was the smallest room in the temple, by Olivia’s own request. She had no idea how much she would come to appreciate that decision.

The order’s base had been big since the start, but without Jesse and Petra, it felt empty, hollow.

Broken.


	195. Visit (Aiden/Jesse)

Aiden walked down the polished street, hands in his pockets. The town had expanded since he’d last been, the once small rural village now a bustling city, giant pristine walls surrounding it. He’d been here for a few hours, and yet he was still having trouble linking the active, lively place with where he’d grown up.

The path to the park was the same length as it had always been, made the same twists and turns, but in the past he’d walked on worn cobblestone, usually with far more trees than people about.

Aiden could’ve swung an ocelot and hit half a dozen people. The mere thought sent a chill up his spine, the feeling of a million eyes on his back not leaving. It was a shame that Maya and Gill had decided not to come, but he couldn’t blame them.

As a general rule, he stuck mostly to his new world, for obvious reasons. However, a birthday was as good of an excuse as any to go and visit his girlfriend.

He grinned as said girlfriend came into view, ambling towards the large oak they’d agreed to meet at.

Her friends were walking in the opposite direction, laughing and talking loudly as they went. Sunlight lit up the green area, bouncing off of the sparkling river and flourishing treetops.

Jesse was greeted with a brief kiss, Aiden pointedly ignoring the glares thrown his way.

“Well?” She laughed as she pulled away, resting her forehead against his as she asked.

"Relax. You know I got it, honey." She raised an eyebrow, finger on his chest as she pushed him back.

“No, I _know_ I sent you out to get it. That doesn’t mean anything with you.” He rolled his eyes, using a hand to halfheartedly shove the offending finger away. “Aiden. Did you get it or not?”

“Jesse!” Her narrowed eyes did not relent. Aiden sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I did. Look, I left in the house.”

Whether or not he was on the best terms with Lukas, and he certainly wasn’t, he knew what he would like.

“Mhm.” The breeze began to pick up, the verdant leaves above swirling back and forth in the air while the nearby golden flowers whirled about in place.

“I did! It should be right on the counter for when we all go in.”

“It better be.” Jesse admonished, glare finally giving way to a soft smile. “We only have one chance; we can’t screw it up.”

“You mean I can’t.” The only reason Aiden was here, and it was no secret, was because he was with Jesse. Besides that, she already had her own gift for the blond. “Lukas adores you. You can throw mud in his face and he won’t care.”

“Aiden!” Jesse chuckled as she took his hand, shaking her head. “This might be hard for you to believe, but he’s not wrapped around my finger.”

“Only I get that honor?” They strolled on the dirt path where the others had already been, footprints visible in the soft soil and on the few trampled patches of lush grass.

“Yup.” She leaned into him as they walked, their steps almost soundless.


	196. Kiss (Lukas/Axel)

Thick green vines covered the gigantic trees around them, the chirping and buzzing of birds and insects creating an odd, pleasing nonstop tune. Golden sunlight trickled through gaps in the trees and canopy, completely bathing a nearby sparkling lake.

Sometimes, the new order had fun simply exploring, as adventurers were prone to do.

Trips like this were always fun, and Lukas was glad he’d been invited along, but this patch of jungle was renowned for being dangerous even to those who traveled it daily and knew all of its tricks.

He yawned as he stretched, twisting to the side as his bones ached. Sleep would’ve been nice; nonetheless, someone needed to take the night watch. A little lethargy wasn’t going to slow him down or trip him up if he could help it.

Lukas leaned up against the mossy tree as he glanced upwards once more.

Any minute now they would leave, heading for the snowy mountains that lied past the lush valley beyond this rainforest. If they were lucky, they’d be there before nightfall.

Jesse and Olivia were discussing something that had to do with the map, but Lukas couldn’t quite pick up what. Whatever it was, they didn’t seem to be too bothered by it, speaking calmly and laughing now and then.

Lukas had already packed his stuff, as the others had with theirs, and the few remaining items that needed to be loaded onto the mules were too heavy for most of them. Petra and Axel took care of that, the two trying to outdo each other in how much each could carry.

Unfortunately for Petra, Axel had the clear lead and advantage.

It was amazing, how much he could carry. Axel was as strong as he looked, if not stronger.

Lukas found himself fully engrossed in the sport of people watching, likely because he had nothing else to do and his eyelids felt so heavy that watching was more fun.

Petra was carrying a cauldron, while Axel had a few pistons and chests under his arms.

The items were unloaded onto their rides easily enough, the two of them continuing whatever banter they’d started without missing a beat.

Axel stuck his tongue out at Petra while she rolled her eyes, grinning widely, and took a drink from his canteen, wiping his mouth with his sleeve afterwards. Petra had a swig from hers as she grabbed the lead donkey’s reins, laughing at something he said.

Lukas chuckled as he watched the two, shaking his head slightly. The way they acted, they could’ve kissed and carried on without a problem.

_Not if I kissed him._

Lukas straightened up, blinking quickly a few times before looking down, heat creeping up his neck.

Hello, no. Nope. That thought could march itself right on back out.

It was one thing not to be terrified by Axel, as intimidating as he was.

It was one thing to get over their silly grudges and actually work on being good friends.

It was a completely different thing to think about kissing him.

He was right in the sense that Axel certainly would not carry on like normal if Lukas kissed him.

He’d probably sucker punch him.

“Lukas?” In his inner panic, he had somehow missed the person that had approached him. The same guy over which Lukas’s thoughts had decided to give him a heart attack. “Are you okay?”

Not his day and the morning had only begun.

Lukas’s head snapped back up, his eyes too big and his smile too fixed.

“I’m fine.” This was stupid; he was just tired. That was all it was. His mind was going nuts without him.

“Dude, you’re sure?” Axel crossed his arms, smirking. “You're, like, fifty shades of pink right now."

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.” Axel raised an eyebrow, but Lukas didn’t say anything else.

“If you say so.” The griefer shrugged as he turned, his hand moving quickly upwards to signal Petra as he walked over towards her. It looked like they were beginning to move on out.

The blond shook his head as he followed, slinging his pack over his shoulder.

Lukas was sure of one thing, all right:

He was well and truly doomed.


	197. Modesty

Jesse groaned as he stared up at the multicolored, twisting sky, his legs dangling off of the edge of the gigantic mossy branch. His hands were folded behind his head, propping it up slightly as he listened to the sounds of the ethereal woodland.

Both of his friends were busy. Axel and Olivia were in the other realm, tending to their home there, and Jesse had just returned. Their forest was protected from mortals as surely as a dragon’s hoard.

Going back so soon sounded silly, and the least he could do was poke around. But where and for who? He’d caught up on everything he’d wanted to already, what with gossip travelling so quickly even between dimensions.

No problem. He knew how to deal with boredom; wouldn’t be a true satyr if he didn’t.

Aiden, the lumbering dirtbag of a troll that he was, had destroyed one of Olivia’s delivery systems. The pixie had been over the moon to finish it, only to have all of her hard work destroyed “accidentally”.

Aiden wasn’t here at the moment, though. The last Jesse had seen of him, he’d been off to his second shelter.

As the ringleader of their scummy group, Lukas, who also had looked the other way despite claiming that he was above rivalries, would have to pay.

If there was anything Fae were good at, it was petty competitions and arguments.

Shots had been fired, and now it was time for retaliation.

Jesse hummed as he walked, hooves clacking upon cobble and digging slightly into dirt, the singing and whispers of the spirits around him weaving together to create a harmonious story as he searched for his target.

This was his home. Finding the “trespasser” wasn’t hard, though not as easy as it would’ve been had Jesse been a dryad.

A creek that flowed through the air and below the dirt, surrounded by a ring of giant boulders and a lush meadow, held an array of creatures, including one Hulder.

The blond was there, his back turned as he sang, washing his hair. There were a pile of heavy clothes by the riverbank, tossed sloppily upon one another in an odd mini tower.

Unlike most Huldra, who cared not for clothing, Lukas had a well-known obsession for keeping himself covered. It made sense given how often the Hulder visited the human realm, but it was beyond odd how determined he seemed to keep his tail hidden even from his own brethren.

Jesse snuck up from behind, snatching the garments while Lukas was distracted. He slunk away without a sound, and it took him less than a minute before he was back behind the natural wall, watching eagerly for the inevitable reaction.

As Lukas hauled himself out, his back still to Jesse, his head turned from side to side, and the satyr caught glimpses of his frown and furrowed brow.

It was hard to say what he saw out of the corner of his eye first, the dangling pants leg or the jacket sleeve, but whatever it was was enough for Lukas to continue slowly looking up, mouth likely dropping in abject horror when he finally got the bigger picture.

The clothes were strewn about the upper spiraling branches of the lone enormous tree, which happened to be beside one of the taller jagged rocks.

There were advantages to being built like Jesse.

Lukas was hardly a goat, and the climb wouldn’t be an easy one for him.

He was going to have to attempt to scale either the tree or the rough mound, and until then he was buck naked.

Jesse whistled, long and low as the Hulder froze. He burst into uncontrollable laughter, guffaws echoing throughout the forest, bounding from tree to tree, while Lukas hastily turned, face redder than a tomato and his glare sharp.

His voice was higher than normal, almost shrill, and if looks could kill Jesse’d be dead.

“Jesse!” The brunette doubled over, holding his sides as a sharp stone barely missed his head.

“Not leaving,” Jesse sputtered the words out through hearty chuckles, “-leaving much to the imagination, are you?”

When Jesse ran, an assortment of mud and smooth rocks hurled at him as his giggling refused to stop, it was only when he ended up back at his branch, winded but thrilled, that his snickering died.


	198. Melt

Soren hummed to himself as his quill scratched furiously at rough parchment, the basic design of an extravagant structure forming from the ink. He paused to take a sip of his coffee, steam wafting off of the drink and towards the polished stone above, the bitter liquid traveling down his throat without a problem and instantly warming his insides. There was no wind, the air outside as still as a statue, but it was far from a warm, sunny day. It was shaping up to be a true winter's morning, not that that would stop him.

If he couldn't build, he'd plan. There were so many ideas he never worked on, something he considered a real shame, and the silver lining of being cooped up was that it gave him a chance to sit down and actually bring those concepts one step closer to fruition, which was better than none at all.

Crystalline snow outside drifted down gently from the layer of puffy grey that was the sky, a clumpy blanket collecting on the single window pane, blocking out light that the one lit candle by his side made up for. The flame flickered as it danced upon the wick, never getting too close to his books or blueprints.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice the sudden footsteps outside his door until it was too late, the dark oak swinging back and a head poking in immediately after. Ellegaard's goggles rested atop her wavy hair, a curl hanging in her eyes and a glittering redstone smudge spanning from the edge of her cheek to the corner of her ear, and the inventor's eyes were wide. She was wearing her "work clothes"; worn overalls and simple gloves rather than her more refined armor.

If her appearance and entrance didn't grab his attention, her words, carried by a rushed and sharp voice, most certainly did.

“What did you _do_ to him?” There was such an air of emergency, of alarm, in her voice, that it naturally got a response. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was accusing him. What "him" she was talking about, when Soren couldn’t recall bringing any harm to anyone, the architect didn't know, but he'd soon find out.

He stretched as he got up from his chair, raising an eyebrow as he strolled to her side and peered out at the darker room, the fireplace crackling as it ate the last of its fuel.

It didn’t take long at all to see who she was referring to.

Soren leaned against the doorway with a hand as he grinned.

Oh, that. For a moment there he had almost been worried.

Ivor was lying on his back upon the couch, the sleeve of his robe slipping to cover half of the hand that was attached to the arm dangling off of the edge, fingertips nearly brushing against the ground. The alchemist’s eyes, half lidded, remained fixed upon the ceiling in an unwavering, dazed stare, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a soft smile. His breathing was slow, but not sluggish or rough. It was almost as if he was asleep with his eyes open.

Soren supposed his expression and body language could best be compared to someone who was drugged. No, perhaps closer to a person who was beginning to feel the full effects of sleeping gas.

In truth, it was simply the result of an Ivor treated to belly rubs- Which it turned out, much to Soren's delight, Ivor positively adored. Hah, and they said nothing good could come out of poking and experimenting with the enchanter when he was asleep.

Not that the potioneer had much of a belly to rub -Ivor had always been an extremely thin and bony individual- but Soren did the best with what he could work with.

It was evidently enough for his friend, who’d no doubt finish drifting off to sleep in a minute.

The peaceful look was not Ivor’s usual, but in Soren’s opinion it was oddly fitting. Ellegaard seemed more unnerved than pleased, and given that she wan uninformed, it made a good deal of sense.

He turned to the engineer with a smirk, back resting against the wood, crossing his arms as he answered.

“My best.” Evidently not what she’d been expecting.

Ellegaard stilled, mouth caught open until she let it quickly snap shut.

There was a familiar look in her eye as she gave a brief half smile, but Soren wasn't sure if she was afraid or awed. Whatever it was, it faded almost as hurriedly as it had appeared, and she chuckled. She raised her hands momentarily with her palms facing him as she turned away, shoes silent on the carpeted floor.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side." Ellegaard threw one last wary glance at Ivor before shaking her head, picking up a small mug of tea that sat on the table as she walked past. She’d likely set it down before noticing Ivor’s near catatonic state.

Soren rolled his eyes, his smile accidentally showing teeth, as he turned. He doubted he’d be able to do anything to her that was close to what affect he was lucky enough to have on Ivor.

Before Soren could take more than a single step, however, he looked behind him once more.

When he shut the door, prepared to spend the next several hours working fervently alone, Ivor had a heavy blanket draped across him.


	199. Spar

Fighting was forbidden in Sky City. There was no reason for anyone to take up a weapon, save for the guards, whose job was to protect everyone from any and all threats.

However, as her mom made sure to explain, there was a very big difference between attacking someone and self-defense. From what Jesse understood, she needed to be able to protect herself, even if she would never have to use the moves she was taught. It was better to be ready for trouble than it was left hoping to be lucky, and her mom hated not being prepared.

Jesse laughed as she dodged a blow from her bigger opponent, her sword making a loud clang as it clashed with one of her mother's, the stone blade hitting at an awkward angle she barely managed to correct. She got a quick nod in turn, her mom taking a step back before they repeated the process, her form slightly neater this time.

Not that Jesse could ever see having to fight someone off herself. No one on the island would ever hurt anyone else, not when they knew the punishment for it, and her mom and uncle were more than capable of taking down anybody and everybody that tried to hurt them.

Jesse wasn't complaining, though. It wasn't often she was allowed to see a weapon up close, never mind use one. For a long time, when she was younger, she’d only been allowed a wooden one. Now that she was older, though not by much, she was allowed a faintly heavier item.

The sun was bright, golden light shining down on through the glistening windows. It wasn't bad enough that it made practicing hard, but it added a little extra touch in the way it shined off of her mother's iron swords. They were on a fresh mat in the training room, the one used mostly by the guards. It was as clean as it could be, large and roomy, and made for great sparring.

Jesse lunged, losing her balance as her mother sidestepped at the last second. She landed on her knees, her weapon the ground. She got off of the padding and turned, giving her mother’s hand a brief shake, before picking it up.

Jesse walked off of the mat, sitting on the ground as she watched her mother battle with Uncle Reggie, who’d patted her on the shoulder and told her she'd improved when he passed her. He'd cheered in all the right places; he made for a good audience.

It was fun, both to take part in and to watch.

Jesse had her back to one of the many columns that surrounded the room, wincing when her mother made a particularly good hit with her blade. Neither was aiming to injure, and it only knocked Uncle Reggie to the mat, but it didn’t look all too nice.

Mom helped him up, their laughter as clear as the bright blue void that surrounded them as they started again.

Jesse tilted her head, her arms crossed as she sat up against the pillar.

She'd been wondering about this for a while now. She was young, yeah, smaller than anyone she knew, but not an idiot.

She knew most kids had a mom and a dad. She knew she only had her mom. She was definitely happy with her, and they didn't need anyone...

But they had someone. Jesse wasn't going to go looking, not for her mother who could more than take care of everyone she wanted to, but he was right there, and she happened to like him quite a bit.

He wasn't her uncle by blood; it was an honorly -wait, no, what was the word again?- _honorary_ title. They weren't related, were willing to protect and help each other no matter what, and they worked together perfectly. Jesse was convinced that there was no better pair. They ran the city together, keeping each other in check and healthy.

Uncle Reggie swung again, Mom managing to deflect him by using both of her blades. His second swipe made her back up a few steps, but they kept going back and forth.

No one made her mom happy like Uncle Reggie, and Mom could always make him smile in a way he did only for her.

They weren't stupid either. They must've seen what she saw, they caught on to pretty much everything, so what was the hold up?

A few more attacks later, they shook hands and got off of the mat, talking too low for her to hear. No clear winner today, then.

Why didn’t she ask them?

Now there was an idea.

Assuming didn't end well, and Mom was always telling her to be exact, polite, and to the point.

Jesse got to her feet as they walked towards her, holding up a canteen of water for each of them in both of her hands.

“Mom?” Her mother used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off of her brow in one quick motion as she looked down at Jesse, one of her eyebrows raised. The smile on her face was soft and small, but it was there as sure as her laughter had been.

“Yes, Jesse?” She tilted her water back for a swift second, drinking as she listened. Jesse didn't waste any time in replying, letting her arms hang at her sides as she asked.

"Why aren't you and Uncle Reggie married yet?"

The reactions she got weren't what she had expected. Jesse had expected them to share one of the many looks they always did and then explain it to her as best they could.

What she got instead was Uncle Reggie turning his head just in time as he spat his mouthful of water out, eyes bigger than saucers as he made an odd sound that Jesse had never heard before. Her mom more or less shoved a hand up to her mouth, in a much more rushed and clumsy manner than Jesse could remember seeing her do anything, and another one to her throat.

Uncle Reggie was by her side in an instant, muttering something as he rubbed her back. She shook her head, waving him off with a hand as she continued to cough.

"I'm fine." Both he and Jesse furrowed their brows, asking the same question in unison.

"Are you sure?" Her head bobbed up and down, and she looked down at Jesse as she did.

"Why-" Her mother brought a hand up to her mouth as she coughed again, "Why do you ask Jesse?"

Well, making her mom choke hadn't been one of the reasons. Yikes.


	200. Slip-up (Lukas/Axel)

Being a hero was everything it had been hoped to be; there were quests and mysteries at every turn, chases and battles filled with thrills and scares fit to shock a man dead, and people who needed help and weren’t afraid to do their bit.

Whether it was slinking through the dead of night or brawling in a violent warzone, usually complete with deafening explosions and enough chaos to choke a dozen horses, the new Order of The Stone had adventures aplenty.

At the end of the day, though, they were ordinary people.

And like all ordinary people, they had to do all the little things like they’d done before they’d saved the world from total destruction.

Hey, they had to eat, and that meant someone had to sweep up the kitchen.

It wasn’t some impossible task or hassle; they could clean up after themselves fine.

This battle was against greasy dishes and gunk stuck to filthy counters, and fought with elbow grease by the same duo who’d cooked up a flurry of dishes earlier.

Easier than going up against a horde of the undead, that was for sure.

Olivia was in her workshop, busy with the latest contraption that she refused to tell any of them about, and Petra and Jesse were training- Judging by the shouts and clanging down the halls, they were having fun.

The sun had almost finished setting, the leftover dim, red light outshined by the bright lamps they had on inside.

There were faint traces of the sugary aroma that belonged to the cakes they’d had for dessert, but it was fading. In its place was the abundant scent of soap, its source being the large metal sink that was filled to the brim with foamy, discolored water.

The gunk was up to Lukas’s elbows, his jacket sleeves rolled up, as he continued to look for more stubborn globs to chip off. He wasn’t half bad at cooking, but he was head of the kitchen when it came to the housework.

Axel’s job was to dry and put away whatever the blond finished meticulously going over and passed to him.

And, technically, he was also quality control. However, with a perfectionist like Lukas doing the scrubbing, there wasn’t any real need.

Axel tapped his foot, leaning up against the wiped down counter, an old dishtowel hanging from a slack hand. They were almost finished, having taken care of everything else.

The last thing he’d been handed was a bowl, and according to the clock, that had been four minutes ago.

“Any day now.” Some things were harder to wash, but a plate only needed a quick clean, ten seconds tops. Apparently, Lukas didn’t think so.

“Yeah, because waiting’s going to kill you.” He didn’t move from his place at the sink, washcloth rubbing at the already sparkling dish.

“What if someone needs help?” Lukas snorted at the suggestion, and Axel grinned as he crossed his arms and continued. “Gonna have to tell ‘em, ‘Nope, sorry. Busy taking forever cleaning’.”

Lukas shifted, glancing at the small, golden rimmed clock on the wall, before turning back to the platter.

“At eight o’clock?” Most people tended to come either in the middle of the night or the afternoon. Not that now would be unheard of, but it wasn’t a serious expectation from either of them. “Right.”

Lukas wasn’t quite playing along yet, but if he was going to take his time, Axel was going to have a little fun. The boredom would kill him at this rate if he didn’t, as much as he was enjoying watching his boyfriend.

“We’re the order; we can’t let that stop us. We’d have to bolt.” Axel tilted his head as he paused before shrugging. “Guess I could leave you with the dishes. You might even have one done by the time we get back.”

“You’re saying I wouldn’t come?” Lukas chuckled, turning the quartz plate over as he talked. “You’d be down a member.”

The good point, though Lukas wasn’t exactly an official member, was brushed off by a quick wave of Axel’s hand.

“Nah. Builders are a dime a dozen. Anybody can build.” Not that any of them could come close to beating the architect. “We’d just find ourselves a Lukas 2.0.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, and the smirk quickly slipped off of Axel’s face as it took a few moments before the architect gave a short hum and scrubbed furiously at the saucer.

It was handed over a second later, Lukas’s knuckles white and grip releasing like a snapped tripwire, the builder not looking at Axel as he snatched up a tray.

Axel placed it atop the stack that was in one of the higher cupboards, painfully aware of how the silence had more tension than a cleaver could slice, a far cry from how comfortable it had been a few moments ago.

Now why had he gone and done that?

It wasn’t as if another team had already abandoned Lukas like he was nothing.

Axel winced, fingers tightening around the tattered cloth in his hand.

Dammit.

It was great to know that the filter between his brain and his mouth still wasn’t working.

Lukas may as well have been trying to murder the tray, and Axel set the damp dishrag aside as he walked over to the blond, stopping behind and a little to the side of him.

“Hey.” Lukas turned as the hand rested on his shoulder, an eyebrow raised as he looked up at Axel. “You know we wouldn’t, right?”

“Yeah.” Lackluster didn’t begin to describe the word or the nod that followed it.

“Come on, I’m serious.” Axel nudged him with his shoulder before leaning down a bit to kiss Lukas on the cheek. He meant every word, as poorly as he was sure it was coming across. “The others’d have to go crazy first, and then they’d have to go through me.”

It would never come to that; Lukas was pretty much one of the team, as much as any of them.

There was another moment of silence before Lukas nodded.

“I know.” He kissed Axel’s cheek in return before he turned back to the soaking tableware. “And alright, I’ll speed it up.”

At least he was smiling, as small as it was.

Axel shook his head, grinning as he picked up the towel.

“Take as long as you want; we’ve got nowhere to be.” Axel started drying the tray that Lukas set aside, leaning back against the counter once more. “You know what you’re doing.”


	201. Prejudice

The market was a busy place, and, what with the city’s growing popularity, there was a serious threat of even more people pouring in amongst the loud, chattering crowd of shoving elbows and rushed apologies.

Soren moved to the side, the wooden basket in his hand swinging slightly at the movement, to avoid a running child half his size.

He instantly noticed the long fluffy and striped tail that was wagging wildly back and forth behind them, and leaned in towards Ivor, closing the small gap between their linked arms as they escaped the wave of shoppers pushing against them.

Their boots clacked on the stone road, not having to worry about the small piles of slush that had been brushed up to the sides of the streets. Early afternoon light sparkled upon the untouched blanket of fresh snow between the streets and buildings.

Soren turned his head, trying to keep a steady pace as a murmur, sharper than most of the others, caught his attention.

Now, he should’ve known better. Surely, it was a mistake that he’d heard his name.

Hah. He knew before he looked what he would find.

Further down the street, a bit behind the swarm of customers, stood three individuals, young adults by the look of them. A few glares and scowls were tossed his way before they shifted, joining the drift to the closest bazaar.

Soren’s fingers gripped the edge of his wooly cap, yanking it down as the ears beneath twitched.

“Soren.” The redhead winced, turning to his companion with a small, askew smile as the thin glove on his hand rubbed against the back of his neck.

“I know it’s not why they were looking, not fully, but it doesn’t help.” He detested his dark, fuzzy ears, his overly sensitive whiskers, his sharp, jagged teeth, all the body parts that would send one backing away in either fear or disgust.  The latter two he couldn’t begin to hide properly now without resorting to self-harm.

“Soren, hiding it doesn’t solve anything, and you know it.” Ivor, his rodent teeth on display for all to see, his hairless tail out clear as day, had never entertained the idea of hiding the lesser parts of them, of pretending to be normal.

Given how lying had panned out, Soren had to conclude the alchemist was right.

Did that make it easy? Notch, no.

“How do you stand it?” Hybrids may have been more accepted now, if only because the heroes of the world were the same as the creatures that had been reviled for centuries, but it hadn’t always been that way.

Not when they were growing up, certainly not. How many of their kind hid themselves away in their own communities, villages with dirt huts and children that parents prayed would turn out more human than them?

“Simple. I’m fairly certain that the reason they look at me like that is because I almost ended the world, not because of my physical attributes.” Ivor shrugged, tucking a thick book under his other arm. The dusty novel had been used, but it was cheap and it had caught his eye, for whatever reason. All Soren knew was that he would likely spend the next few hours going through it. “If it’s because of them, I can’t exactly change it and I don’t plan to.”

Soren’s whiskers twitched as the winter breeze began to pick up, icy wind bitter and sudden.

“You never did care, did you?” Ivor narrowed his eyes as they slowed, the two beginning to walk on a barely visible dirt path as the street curved. Small bits of ice were displaced, an old footprint or two the best guides a stranger to the area would’ve found.

“I don’t see the point; it doesn’t harm anyone, does it? Are any of us this way by choice?” Ivor pulled away from Soren to face him, a sharp eyebrow rising.

“It’s abnormal, Ivor, and it _has_ hurt people before.” Since the beginning, there had been normal humans, and then there had been hybrids. They were beings able to attack others as well as defend and heal themselves without the use of potions, weapons, or armor. Naturally “gifted” from the start, given an unfair advantage, with minds more beast than man.

When they gave in to their more primal instincts, usually done during times of emotional instability, it had the potential to end horribly.

There had been bloodbaths before, incidents passed down through history as cautionary tales and warnings. Ivor had been forced to read them as much as Soren had-

Yet here he was claiming they’d done nothing?

“The only way you’ve ever hurt anyone is through your own cowardice!” Ivor stopped entirely, his volume increasing with each word, until the last was spat out. It was by miracle alone that they had meandered far enough that only the woods heard the accusation, the city hidden somewhere behind thick trees and brambles. His glower fell almost immediately as he looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice was far quieter and softer. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re right.” Soren tried to smile, pointed teeth creating a painfully fixed grin, and he knew the chuckle he gave with it was weak.

How much damage had he done? How many people’s lives had he ruined? If only he hadn’t brought that damned block along, gotten so reliant…

Too late for that. Far too late.

He was lucky he’d been forgiven and not tossed behind bars. A coward and a fake, inferior in every way.

They began to walk again, in a grim sort of silence. A bird above cawed as it took to the air, the dead branch it had been perched upon shaking afterwards.

The level of snow decreased, mud and grit covered with less than an inch of slush and ice.

It didn’t take long for a cabin, their target, to come into view.

It was a decent size, and it served its humble purpose well enough. It was their home, built not long after the scarcely averted end of the world.

Their footsteps were heavy and loud on the wooden stairs, the lumber a variety of shades from the water.

Ivor unlocked the door, which opened with a low, groaning creak. He held it open for Soren, locking it again once they were in.

It was after they set down their materials and recently acquired goods on the main room table that Ivor looked him in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter what they think.”

Soren appreciated the thought, if nothing else.

In a minute the fireplace held a small fire, the flames that danced atop the kindle slowly turning into a bigger blaze.

The couch sunk slightly beneath their combined weight as the two sat down, Soren leaning up against Ivor while the enchanter read.

Well, Soren thought it was extremely cozy.


	202. Appetite

Soren realized, as he found himself pacing, boots making little sound against lush carpet and his hands making gestures to silently accompany and parallel his thought processes, that this wasn’t a conundrum he’d ever dreamed he’d be faced with.

The only time Ivor ever did things out of the blue or spur of the moment was when the five of them were on some quest, his rushed actions usually to their benefit, and they’d mostly been cooped up in their temple as winter continued to rage on with bitter temperatures and heavy snow around them.

However, seemingly from nowhere and with no motivation or explanation, Ivor had decided to raid their pantry, for reasons known only to himself. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t eaten, too wrapped up in his work, until the hunger became too much to ignore –as had been the case before, when Soren knew Ivor’d resorted to using potions to fool his body into thinking it’d been fed- but more that he, once outright reluctant to join them regularly for meals, was now the first one to the table and always seemed to have some treat, sugary or not, in hand.

To be fair, the fact that the almost skeletal enchanter actually wanted to eat instead of starving himself was undoubtedly a good thing. Ivor’s body was his own, truly, but it was nice to see him taking care of himself.

It wasn’t a gradual change, though, which was distressing. Ivor didn’t acknowledge the sudden shift, and Soren had to begin wondering if there was some meaning behind it that he was missing. His mind jumped from idea to idea, some more farfetched than others.

Was there something wrong with his experiments? Had Soren done something to upset Ivor, perhaps? Was this a coping mechanism for some disaster or incident none of them were privy to?

In short, Soren was worried.

They all were, really. Gabriel had mentioned something that very morning about Ivor being on the road to a heart attack.

Granted, Ivor’s weight gain wasn’t exactly that prominent or inherently troublesome, but Gabriel had a point.

And until he figured this out, Soren knew it would drive him mad, constantly being toyed with and examined at the corner of his mind.

It was time to put the guessing games to rest and simply ask Ivor.

Soren left his room and crept towards Ivor’s laboratory, the acacia stairs creaking beneath him as he walked down them, only to stop dead in his tracks as he turned the corner to find the resident inventor standing there in slightly bloodied armor.

She had just gone hunting with Gabriel, so he supposed her condition made sense.

But what was she doing here, of all places? Ellegaard was notorious for locking herself in her workshop after hunting trips, often for many hours at a time.

She brought a finger up to her pale lips as she glanced at the door, soft light trickling through what it could of the barely open entry.

They both slunk forward, the door opening more as they approached. By some luck, it didn’t creak, silently swinging backwards to let them see more. It slowed to a crawl before it came near the wall, also ensuring that it wouldn’t bang against the stone and alert the subject of their curiosity.

At his desk, with his back turned to them, Ivor was studying some new concoction, the quill in his hand scratching furiously against the paper of the journal beside the stand as he took notes. The fingers of his other hand were curled around a roll, wisps of steam escaping it now and then, which he absentmindedly took bites out of as the neon mixture bubbled. The brewing stand held three vials, but only the middle one swirled, an odd range of bright colors mixing this way and that.

"What did you do to him?” Ellegaard had, once again, assumed Soren was to blame for the sudden change in their alchemist. Her hiss was quick and quiet, gloved fingers gripping the chocolate colored oaken edge of the doorframe. There were enough other white noises, between all of the boiling cauldrons and fizzing potions, that her words went unheard and Ivor was kept unaware of his company. “Why is he eating _everything_?"

“Everything” was a bit of a stretch, but the change in Ivor’s appetite had been unexpected, to say the least.

"I don't know! He just started-” Hold on. Finally, his mind had begun to scramble something together, which was far better than nothing at all. Soren paused, body freezing for a moment before he glanced back over at the engineer. There was something odd about the timing of all of this, something that rang a few bells. “Wait...I-I think I may have said something to him..."

If looks could kill, Ellegaard would have him six feet under, what remained of his mangled corpse already cooling as earthworms feasted. Soren winced, pulling back and away from the doorway.

"What did you _say_ to him!?"

The redhead hesitated, thinking back to the last conversation he’d had with Ivor before this had started.

No. Ivor wouldn’t, would he?

Oh, Notch dammit, Ellegaard was going to kill him.

"Ah, yes, well, about that... erm, perhaps I told him I needed more room to work with for belly rubs..."

Murder certainly seemed viable, given how her eyes narrowed further and the fires of the Nether stared back at him.

“Soren.” His name was ground out through clenched teeth, and Ellegaard took in a deep breath before she continued, lethal rage turning into tired exasperation. “Can you get him to stop?”

“I don’t believe there’s any stopping him.” Her fingers twitched at his answer, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that his death at those trembling hands was nearing fruition. “You could always ask him, I’m sure.”

A finger was jabbed in his face, Ellegaard’s voice akin to the sizzling of lava.

“You started this; you can deal with it.”

With that, she turned heel and marched away, pace quickening with each step.


	203. Braid

As soon as Magnus touched him, it was as if Ivor had been shocked, his body seizing up as his fingers gripped the edges of his book, feet pushing suddenly against the ground as he tried to stand.

The griefer shoved Ivor back into his seat, gently given how little actual resistance he found, rolling his eyes as the inevitable protests began.

“Ssh.” It wasn’t like Magnus’d been trying to be sneaky. He’d opened the door with a loud click, the locks coming undone in a matter of seconds, and Magnus’s boots stomped across the wood floor as noisily as an elephant on wheels. If anything, the biggest surprise should’ve been that Ivor didn’t demand to know what he wanted, that he hadn’t acknowledged him at all. The pounding of the storm outside could send shivers down a man’s spine if he let it get to him, but it couldn’t drown out Magnus being as noisy as a TNT display. “Stop fussin. I’m just braiding your hair.”

Magnus began looping it as he waited for a reply, a drawn out huff the best he got.

Ivor returned his attention to the book, some large novel seven levels too big and too dusty to be interesting that he let rest in his lap as his fingers played with the pasty edge of the next page.

As Magnus had taken his gloves off a while ago, he could feel how soft and silky Ivor’s hair was. It was like when they’d been in the order together, which meant the alchemist had washed it not too long ago.

It was good that Ivor was taking care of himself again. After “leaving”, Magnus was pretty sure he’d given up on that altogether.

At least it meant neither of them had to deal with the greasy mess that had highlighted his old friend’s state of disrepair.

And, contrary to Ivor’s grumbling, it wasn’t being tied in a knot.

Over and under, simple as that, repeat and add in the third bit.

Not the neatest braid he’d ever made, Magnus would admit, but it was decent. He had enough experience to know that much.

Oh, sure, there’d been the times when he and Soren had snuck up on Ivor and tried to pin the feisty enchanter down while they dealt with his mop of hair, but he’d done it other times too.

Like with Ellie.

She would let her hair grow out a bit longer in the winter, and her hasty ponytails never seemed to keep her hair out of her face for long enough.

With Ellie, though, the only “long enough” she would’ve accepted was if her hair didn’t get in her face and interrupt her work until centuries after the end of time itself.

It gave Magnus something to do, when he was bored and hanging around her when she was tinkering about and repairing whatever they had managed to break this time.

Maybe Ivor didn’t know why Magnus was so quiet, didn’t know what day it was –like hell he didn’t; he’d been locked up in his lab all day and hadn’t come out once, not when Petra had threatened to kick the door down or Jesse had pleaded and bribed and begged- and maybe he didn’t know it’d been a year since they’d lost one of their best friends to a demon as large and dangerous as life itself, but it didn’t matter in the end because he stayed quiet and let Magnus keep to his own thoughts.

It likely have been more comfortable if he’d been sitting down, but, as it was, Ivor was as likely to move for Magnus’s comfort as the hammering rain was to let up and given them some sunshine. The closest thing to coziness, in the laboratory of sharp edges and deadly tonics, was a cot in the corner of the room.

It was as soft as the edge of a sharpened blade. He was better off standing behind Ivor, whose own chair wasn’t all that nice, but to each their own.

Magnus undid and redid that same braid over and over, pattern well memorized, until Ivor shut the tattered hardback with a finality that had the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the head.

Ivor got up and put it away, not looking at Magnus. It was only when he made it to the door and opened it along with its multitude of bolts and latches that he turned and faced Magnus, raising an eyebrow as he did. There was a slight nod that accompanied it, motioning towards the set of stairs outside the doorway.

Well, if that wasn’t an invitation, Magnus didn’t know what was.

He followed, speeding up so that he was walking beside Ivor and not behind him like some lost stray.

The building was pitch black, no moonlight trickling in amongst the abundant snores from the other rooms. The downpour carried on strong, windows as wet as any ocean. What time it was, Magnus didn’t know.

Didn’t care to, at this point.  All that mattered was not waking the others up.

They followed the railing down the hall, where Ivor opened the door to his room.

Magnus stepped back as he did, heel scuffing against the carpet, taking another step towards his own. So that was it.

Ivor had probably wanted to make sure he could get to bed alright, couldn’t risk him screwing that up.

Maybe he would’ve. Why not? It wasn’t as if-

He realized a few seconds too late that he was now faced with a glow that was blinding when compared to the inky black they’d been swamped with, busy blinking as Ivor spoke the first word he’d heard from him today.

“Magnus.” The lamps in Ivor’s room were on, the heavy barricade that was his door having somehow successfully kept all the light in. It was only because of how it dug slightly at the carpet that nothing got out from underneath, and tall enough that there was no gap between it and the top of the doorframe.

Peering in, rubbing at his eyes to adjust, Magnus found they weren’t alone.

Not that Magnus’d expected Ivor to leave any of his lights on for no reason, which he’d kinda assumed he had. The lamps and levers were at the other end of the room, few though they may have been, and Ivor hadn’t been able to go that far in a single moment.

Sitting in an armchair next to the light sources, Gabriel had a book closed in his hands.

Yeah, Magnus didn’t think he’d gotten to sleep either. Who coulda guessed? The warrior had faint bags under his eyes, and the smile on his face was weak at best.

Magnus and Ivor entered Ivor heading straight for the bed. He looked bushed, understandably, and Magnus was half willing to jump in after him.

None of the silence explained why Magnus was here, though, why Ivor had gotten him to join them. Wasn’t much of an explanation for why Gabe was there either, really.

Up until Gabriel got up and stood beside the bed, tilting his head as he asked another unspoken question.

All of the things going unsaid, it was a miracle something wasn’t lost in translation. Probably was, with their luck. If Magnus was right, though, maybe he could see why they weren’t talking about it.

Sleepovers weren’t much his thing, but neither was sulking alone where the memories could swallow him whole.

So he didn’t ask any questions. He and Gabe slipped under the heavy covers, Ivor in the middle, and were plunged into darkness once Gabriel, who was closer, flipped the switch.

For everything and anything Magnus could say or think about it, it wasn’t a lonesome dark. He fell asleep that way, eventually slipping off beside the warm bodies of his two best friends, one of his hands occasionally playing with the sloppy braid attached to their potioneer.


	204. Hate

Jesse let her back rest against the soft cushions of the couch as she continued her conversation with Aiden, not pausing as he handed her some coffee.

Granted, it was more of a one-sided discussion, given how little he said in response. Aiden had yet to do more than hum every now and then, the longest sentences since they’d separated from the others being one word affirmations and questions.

He seemed content, though, letting her speak as he sipped his own hot drink. And really, it’d been a while since she’d been able to stop running and fighting and just talk to someone about everything and anything.

Jesse loved adventuring, she did, but they hadn’t gotten a break in well over a month, and the others needed their space. She respected that. It was hard to have long chats when death kept nipping at their heels.

“I’m not sure what we should do, honestly. The sooner we get home the better, but we need more time to rest. The last time any of us got a good sleep was more than a week ago.” Petra’s aim was shakier than the warrior would ever admit, Lukas may as well have been a zombie, and Ivor had taken on several new levels of grumpy. Jesse had been on edge herself lately, though making it back to some friendly territory definitely helped. “What do you think?”

“Yes.”

Aiden yelped as he brought a hand up to his face, Jesse crossing her arms as the sharp clap the smack had made faded. It sounded like it was the type that stung, and she hoped it did.

“Jesse!”

“What did I say?” She raised an eyebrow as she leaned back once more, fingers relaxing around the toasty, ceramic mug.

“Before or after you hit me?” Aiden grimaced, rubbing hesitantly at the skin that was turning bright pink.

"Now, I didn't hit you. I lightly slapped you." His lips twisted while his eyes narrowed, combining to create the look that he’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, making teasing him all the easier. “You’d think a writer could tell the difference.”

“Sure.” Aiden scoffed before he took another sip of his coffee, lips twitching up in a small smile.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? You haven’t said much of anything.”

“It’s nothing.” Neither of them believed that for a second. Aiden looked away, setting aside his cup. “It’s just- Do you ever think about how weird this all is? I tried to kill you, Jesse. You should hate me. I should be in jail. But here we are, chatting over coffee.”

The silence that followed could've been cut with a knife.

“Do you want me to hate you?” Her eyes were locked onto the black liquid she kept swirling around inside her mug. 

“Of course not!” As steam rose out of her drink, Jesse could see Aiden shaking his head out of the corner of her eye.

“Aiden.” She shifted, facing him as she talked. “I could be furious. You tried to kill me. You tried to kill Lukas. You tried to slaughter every single person who lived in that city. I _should_ hate you.”

It had been easy not to dwell on it, at first, when she thought they were going home. He wasn’t any of her business any more. This new world could do as it wanted with him, and it was Aiden’s job to learn to roll with it and survive.

Then they’d ended up in a hall of portals that led to more worlds and more portals, until eventually her group had had to go back to the one they’d left behind. Ivor had been able to patch Lukas up, whose injuries were thankfully nowhere near as bad as they could’ve been, but his supplies weren’t infinite.

And Jesse had found confronting Aiden, who had seemed to try his best to push all of his jealousy-fueled actions behind him, so much easier than avoiding him. Maya and Gill were in similar boats, and they were as sorry about what had happened as anyone.

Jesse sighed, moving her hand away from her knee as the nails digging into her skin were registered.

“But I don’t. It’s not worth it. You swore to change. And you have, haven’t you? No more takeovers or attempted murders, right?”

It was a rhetorical question, because if he’d even thought about it, Reggie would’ve tossed him right back into a cell.

“Right.”

“Then that’s that. I can’t say anybody else is going to forgive you, and if they do then that’s up to them.” The fact that he was out of jail and had his own house suggested that they already had, or thought better than to let him rot in a dirt prison. “Now, back to my original question…”


	205. Makeup (Milo/Isa)

With the fall of Sky City came the rise of a new beginning, and a variety of changes had soon followed. They were finally settling themselves, their little settlement growing by the day into a bustling city. It wasn’t exactly easy, given how they were the only people they knew of on their world. Their numbers weren’t all too high.

Not that the idea of other cultures and societies existing hadn’t occurred to Isa, but their expeditions had yet to find anyone. With their luck, if they were to come across anyone, it would be brigands and warriors far more prepared for conquest and battle than her people.

If it was at all possible, Isa would love to bring their civilization up to a level where they could at least compare to the far more experienced ones of other worlds.

So, as a show of good will, there had been a feast to celebrate the recent progress in which the heroes of the other realm had been invited as honored guests. Jesse and her friends were a cordial and agreeable bunch, thankfully, and they’d been incredibly helpful. Things with the other worlds were a bit difficult at the moment, in no short part because of how vastly different most of them seemed to be, but hopefully keeping strong relations with Jesse’s would aid in that.

The actual festivities had involved a good deal of food, beers, games, challenges, and organized chaos.

To say the night had been hectic was an understatement.

"You wear too much eye makeup.” To top it all off, there was now a drunken critic that had found his way onto her bed, his upper body hanging off of the edge as he watched her. “My sister wears too much. People think she's a whore."

Isa rolled her eyes, attention on the small vanity as she made one last gentle swipe across her face with the soft cloth in her hand, any remaining powder and paint coming off of her skin as the damp hand towel wiped the varying shades of green and dark red away.

“Milo, I’ve met your sister.” The siblings weren’t particularly close, but they were amiable enough. The blond vixen that was related to Isa’s lover, however, also had no shame of any sort. Milo, as much as he loved to argue and rebel seemingly for the sake of it and as casual and relaxed as he could be, had more decency, even when drunk. “I think there are a few other reasons why someone would come to that conclusion.”

Milo simply hummed in response, closing his eyes as his dangling head rested against the side of the mattress.

“I didn’t think you minded my makeup?” Isa flipped the lever beside the mirror as she walked away from her reflection. The soft fabric of her nightgown took the place of her ornate but constricting robe as she waited for his answer.

“I don’t.” He chuckled at the raised eyebrow the statement received before sitting up, shifting so that his back wasn’t turned to her. “I know it’s supposed to draw attention to your eyes, but it just seems to hide them. You have beautiful eyes; they shouldn’t be concealed behind a pound of cosmetics.”

“You are exaggerating again.” Isa’s lips pressed against his cheek as she sat beside him, slipping under the blankets. Milo followed suit, clumsier in his attempt to rest beneath the sheets and not atop them. Seeing what a hassle that alone was, Isa decided the best course of action was to reach over him and shut off the glowing lamp. His shoulder made a fine pillow in the dark, her arms wrapping around him as his pulled her closer. “But you’re sweet.”


	206. Chilly

Magnus scowled as he glanced away from the crackling fire to the window, glass panes covered by a thick layer of snow that blocked whatever evening light there would’ve been, assuming anything got past the dense sea of clouds above.

Okay, so visiting the new order dab smack in the middle of winter hadn’t been his brightest idea.

The blizzard that had hit had struck hard, and by the time it finished there were several feet of snow blocking any and all doors. The streets were covered in heavy sleet and slush, and even if the howling winds had stopped long enough for him to venture outside without worrying about frostbite, the building that housed the Nether Portal and a quick way to Boom Town was definitely buried too. Though the snowstorm had lightened up, flurries continued to kick up and dance about with what had fallen to the ground. Travel was out of the question, at least until whenever the sun chose to come out the next day.

The griefer lived in a desert, the coldest times being at night when the breeze was crisp and the coyotes were itching for something to eat besides old bones bleached by the sun, for a reason. At its chilliest it was cool, and a nice change from a day of blistering heat.

The cushion beneath Magnus creaked as he shifted again, fingers tugging at the edges of the blanket he had wrapped around him.

To be fair, any place griefers decided to use and build a kingdom at would be leveled to nothing but craters and desert in a short matter of time anyways, but it was the thought that counted. It had been a wasteland to begin with, and no one cared if thieves and psychopaths tried to kill each other there, not the way they would if a bunch of maniacs had taken root near a forest or a city. The sugarcane farmers and temple raiders may not have liked the sudden influx of bombers and lunatics, but even they couldn’t be bothered to give a damn in the end. Any that did were blasted into oblivion, which made a fine little message for anyone else who wanted to try and mess with their chaos.

There was a city of explosions and insanity waiting for him, and here he was freezing his ass off under a mountain of snow.

Magnus was no fan of the temperatures that dipped well below freezing or the icy ground.  Making forts and golems and pelting each other senseless with snow was fun, yeah, but there was a point where it was too cold to bother. Magnus had been called hot blooded before, but that obviously wasn’t enough, not even when coupled with hot cocoa, a blanket, and a fire. He was really getting soft, wasn’t he?

He’d blame that on the knuckleheads he’d come to visit in the first place.

The five of them were curled up around one another on the other end of the large couch, their own woolen blankets stretched out on top of them to make an odd cocoon. Their armor rested in a large heap beside them on the ground, and a number of limbs stuck out from their pile. By the looks of things, Lukas was already half-asleep, his goggles still on his head and his eyes shut, Olivia not far behind as she rested against Petra.

Before they’d been hit by the surprise storm, which had welled up out of nowhere and sent them running for shelter, there had been no lack of activity on their part. The training and playing blended together in nonstop mix of action, and now that they had nothing to do but lounge, it was taking its toll.

Hell, he’d have probably drifted off to sleep himself if he’d been able to feel his toes.

When Magnus had been around their age, he and his friends had done the same thing multiple times when the frosty weather became too much. That was then, though, and now he was older, down two of those friends, and currently alone. At best he was a mentor to one of the new heroes, at worst a tagalong to the whole lot.

Great. Magnus was a has-been who’d outstayed his welcome, but not by choice.

Several times now the idea of nonchalantly edging his way over to them or flat out asking had popped into his head.

Not that he actually would. Nah, he had a bit more pride than that.

Yet when it came down to pride or comfort, it was a tougher call than it should’ve been. They already knew he was a cheating liar; knowing that he was also frozen clean through couldn’t make them think any lower of him.

“Magnus?” He looked away from the fire at the mention of his name, the grip he didn’t realize had gotten so tight on his leg vanishing as he did. Jesse stared at him, the brunette the closest to him. Her hair was mussed, but her eyes were almost strangely focused.

Funny that. It was a look Magnus could’ve sworn he’d seen before, although not on her.

“What’s up, short stuff?” He flashed her a quick smile, one he hoped looked real enough to relax her.

Judging by the frown and furrowed brow he got in return, no it did not.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“What, me? Hah.” Magnus lifted his head as he laughed, which would’ve likely been more reassuring had he not coughed at the end.

“Please?” And ouch, Jesse knew how to act fast. Already she was using the puppy dog eyes. As the leader of a bunch of heroes, she shouldn’t have been so good at them. It wasn’t fair, using them on an unarmed guy like him.

Ellie wasn’t around to tell him when he was being an idiot anymore. It was up to him to figure out when to give in and stop being a stubborn pain, and if he did scooch over slowly, trying not to disturb any of them, so be it.

But oh Notch were they warm.

There was hardly any movement made to make room for him, and all the better.

Magnus found himself leaning against Axel, who may as well have been a damned heater, with Jesse on his other side. It would be hard to pinpoint when exactly he fell asleep, but if he’d had to say, it was as soon as his head rested against Axel’s side.


	207. Concerned (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas was not, contrary to what anyone else may or may not have said, a worrywart.

He was, however, incredibly concerned, and not without good reason.

It took a great deal to break a person, well and truly. Some were easier than others, some needed time to heal, but a human being could withstand a lot before they collapsed, mentally or physically, and never got back up. Jesse had been through all of it several times over now, and the cracks were beginning to show. Even the best made masks couldn’t last forever.

The last world they’d been to hadn’t exactly been kind to any of them, their leader in particular nearly tossed into a sizzling sea of lava. It was almost like being back in the Nether, but no such luck. There were creatures there that he hoped they would never have to see or deal with again.

The stench of ash and smoke clung to the four of them like death at a funeral, heavy and strong. They smelt of sweat and fire, brimstone and embers. It stuck out like a sore thumb inside the hall of portals. They had escaped alive, though, back to safety.

That was the most that could be said for this place, a thin layer of dust resting on the areas they had yet to walk and glistening cobwebs hanging in the dim corners.

It was better than being dead, but it wasn’t home.

Lukas’s footsteps echoed as he made his way towards the fire that was desperately trying to stay alive at the heart of their makeshift camp. His skin itched beneath the bandage, his fingernails pulling slightly at the frayed material that snaked across half of his arm. At least it didn’t feel like he was burning alive anymore.

Ivor was running out of materials and ways to patch them back up, but he’d managed to cobble something together. Jesse had been treated first due to how many injuries she’d had, followed by Lukas. Right now the enchanter was taking care of Petra, the warrior perhaps, surprisingly enough, the least injured of them all this time, and then he’d get to his own wounds.

Jesse didn’t move as Lukas sat down next to her, eyes fixed on the ginger flames as they devoured the brittle tinder.

“What’s wrong?” Her head snapped towards him, though, as soon as he spoke, a grin that went poorly with the dark bags under her eyes plastered on her face. The reply was instantaneous, practically sharp in how quickly it was forced out.

“Nothing.” He was sick of the fake smiles, her insistence that nothing was wrong when clearly something was, it was very wrong, her deflecting the questions at every turn.

He was sick of the lies.

Lukas rested a hand on her shoulder, the armor she wore, cold and hard to the touch, not concealing the way she stiffened.

"You look so... empty.” Not the nicest way to put it, but she did. Jesse’s eyes were half lidded, the bright spark normally there now dulled to an unrecognizable degree. Lukas sighed as she looked away, voice softer as he continued. “I'm worried about you. Please talk to me."

There was nothing to be heard except for the crackling of the fire and the tiniest bits of Ivor and Petra’s mumbled conversation.

With a drawn out exhale, Jesse answered, not moving as she did.

“We’re lost, Lukas. I have no idea what I’m doing.” The next two words were barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.”

“I think we all are, a little.” The master of comforting others, he was not. “You’ve been fantastic. You keep working and working; you look like you’re ready to collapse.”

“I should be doing more.” There wasn’t much more she could do. In every world they’d been to, someone had needed help, and Jesse had never hesitated in giving it to them. This last one had involved an entire civilization of people, a large one at that, needing saving from a monster made of magma.

She had helped them without any complaint.

“You’re not superhuman, Jesse.”

“Maybe I should be.” The grumble almost surprised him with how bitter it was.

“When was the last time you got any rest?” The last time he’d actually seen her sleep had been more than half a week ago. “How many days?”

“They needed help.”

“And now you need to take a break.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, careful to avoid the thin and likely sensitive cut right below her eye. “I hate to tell you this, Jesse, but you may actually have to let someone else take care of you for once.”

“The horror.” It was small, a wiry smirk, but it was as genuine as the tired giggle that followed it. It was something.

Lukas chuckled, wrapping an arm around Jesse as she leaned into him.

“Right.”


	208. Monstrosity

There was a sort of natural order about the world, and there was a rule followed by everyone for their own sakes. Either you killed the monsters, or they killed you. Maybe you paid someone else to do the killing for you, but the idea was fundamentally the same.

Like everything that was fine and dandy and should’ve been left alone, though, there was always someone who wanted to mess it up and screw around with it.

They made pets out of things that were best left alone, or, better yet, dead. People liked to use wolves and ocelots as examples, more like excuses, but it wasn’t the same. Wolves and ocelots didn’t attack unless they’d already been attacked, no matter the circumstances. Most monsters were only neutral in daylight, and all were well known for being murdering machines.

Ivor had taken a liking to said lethal creatures, which meant Petra wasn’t allowed to kill them no matter what her reasoning was. And, honestly, that was fine. It was annoying, sure, waking up to hearing things hissing and growling as they crept down the hall, given that Ivor’s “best behaved” beasts were allowed to roam, but in the end it didn’t matter.

She’d thought about going behind his back and killing a few anyways, but it was clear that, for whatever reason, Ivor actually cared about the demons he took in.

However, as fine as she was with not murdering them if they didn’t attack her, that did _not_ mean she was okay with the fuzzy ball of teeth that was dropped onto her lap by a smirking alchemist.

Petra had been resting on one of the older reclining chairs in the main room, and thus was on her back. She didn’t dare move, and her voice was higher than it should’ve been when she spoke.

“Ivor-” Petra froze as she stared at the cave spider, her fingers digging into the wooden arms of the chair.

"Oh, calm down; I'll be right back." She didn’t dare take her eyes off of the surprise visitor while its owner walked away, his footsteps soft and vanishing almost immediately.

She was going to kill him. That lousy, good for nothing piece of-

The spider, Ivor called her Little Rose, was still staring at Petra, her eight blood red eyes not moving.

The hell did the monster want?

Minutes may as well have been hours, dragging on slower than tree sap in the winter, Petra trembling as she kept her eyes on Little Rose. Petra had come across plenty of cave spiders in her time. They came with mining, and they almost always popped up when treasure was involved. She also had no idea what to do when the plan wasn’t to either bolt away from or slaughter them.

Her mouth was apparently glad to spew the first confused nonsense that came to mind. When in doubt, use flattery.

"I-I see why he g-gave you that n-name. T-t-those eyes are... p-pretty…" It was also the ugliest damn spider she’d ever had the displeasure of seeing so close, and she couldn’t help but notice the way it cocked its head as she spoke. Petra was unarmed, had no armor on, and was incredibly lucky not to have been bitten. Shaking the critter off could work, but that would make it more likely for some of those poison fangs to come into play. To make matters worse, Little Rose seemed to find that the perfect time to get closer, fuzzy limbs pressing down on Petra’s stomach as the arachnid walked. “N-no no no no- You just- s-stay!"

Petra, for all her pride, was willing to admit that maybe the noise that escaped her throat as the spider decided to cross her body was similar to a squeak. Thankfully, either out of something that resembled training or sheer luck, Little Rose didn’t get any closer, choosing instead to settle where she’d been stopped. Petra would also be willing to admit that she did indeed whimper as the spider gave what sounded like a growl, low and rumbling.

Notch dammit. Calling out for Ivor was out of the question; he’d be back any minute, he didn’t want his precious pet killed, and she wasn’t that big of a coward.

But there was no harm in asking what was taking the enchanter so long, was there?

Maybe if she moved to pet Little Rose, the way Ivor often did, to calm her down… Did spiders have scruffs to grab? Petra didn’t think so. That was out too, and any movement could get the creepy crawly to snap and pounce right for Petra’s face- or hand, or her arm, or any body part, really. It took far too long for Ivor to return to the room, the smirk on his face not changing as he sat down in the chair beside hers, the steaming mug in his hands making a small clunk as he set it down on the small table.

"Are you enjoying the company, Petra?" That did it; she was murdering him as soon as his back was turned.

“Fuck you.”

Despite him getting comfortable again, his pet remained on the warrior. Petra was even granted another rumble.

Joy.

He’d gotten his laughs, the bastard, so why was Little Rose still on her? What was he waiting for?

Petra turned her head the slightest bit, shuddering as she stuttered.

"T-take her?"

Ivor simply took a sip of his tea, raising an eyebrow as he smiled.

"And why would I do that?"

Yup, definitely dead.

They sat in continued silence, and Petra couldn’t ignore how heavy her head was feeling. She’d been relaxing in this chair in the first place because she was exhausted after a long day of training, traveling, and trading. The “lovely” adrenaline boost provided by Little Rose had certainly kept her up longer, but gravity began yanking at her eyelids again.

If she was going to die, she might as well have gotten some rest.

Reality began to blur, Petra shutting her eyes as her mind was taken by a hazy fog.

* * *

She was in a warm chair, in a cozy room. There was a small cat purring in her lap, and what was the harm in petting it again?

Petra opened her eyes again, blearily blinking as she looked at the bookshelf, and then at the roaring inferno in the fireplace beside it. Next to her was Ivor, relaxing in his own chair with his tea.

What were they doing again?

Oh, that was right. She’d been resting, and then Ivor had-

With Little Rose-

And that meant that…

Sure enough, there was no cat in her lap. There was a spider making the same low noises as Petra continued to pet it.

Oh.

Cave spiders lived in frigid and dark environments, and they had thick fur to protect themselves from the freezing temperatures. It didn’t feel quite as soft as an ocelot’s fur, but it wasn’t by any means coarse. That didn’t change the fact that there was now a scream threatening to claw its way out of her throat. Waking Little Rose out of her trance, however, would not end well, and Ivor had been given enough satisfaction for his stupid prank already.

She didn’t shout, but she did whimper.

"Relax, and don't stop petting her. She isn't going to hurt you." Ivor huffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back.

Petra glanced back down at the spider.

To hell with it; she’d lived a good life.

* * *

An experiment was an experiment, and Ivor was willing to call the results of this one successful.

He chuckled as he plucked Little Rose from her slowly rising and falling perch on Petra’s stomach, the spider as asleep as the warrior. There was no telling what the redhead would do if she woke up to find Little Rose there, and there was too big of a risk that she’d accidentally roll over and crush her sometime in the night. Ivor draped a blanket over Petra before turning and walking up the stairs, careful to gently place Little Rose on the bundle of soft silk that was on his desk.

Not what he had expected, perhaps, but it was undoubtedly something.


	209. Discussion (Milo/Isa)

Thanks to keeping their promises to Jesse, it’s a well-known fact that there are regular meetings between Isa and Milo, complete opposites and leaders of two widely different groups, in which they discuss the latest issues and ideas concerning their people and the new city.

Or, as Reginald likes to call them, the daily bickering competitions, complete with immature name calling, obscene gestures thrown when the other’s back is turned, and drinks. They used to have coffee on the more stressful days, but after the incident with the futon, the throwing knives, and the pounds of wool, the remains of which Isa keeps finding attached to the ceiling, they’ve agreed to stick to tea. Which, she notes as she takes another sip, is far better than the company.

The tea is, at the very least, sweet.

“You are perhaps the foulest lowlife I have ever had the displeasure to meet.” Her companion grins as he leans back in his chair, looking as sloppy and undone as ever with his rumpled clothing and mussed hair. “I do hate you, you know.”

“Of course.” The toothy smile is already several shades of smug before Milo dips his head in a mock bow. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. You are a vicious tyrant, after all.”

“Flatterer.” A routine of sorts has been drummed out after several months of trial and error, with a good deal more error than either would have liked. They may not be the typical sappy couple, if such a thing actually exists, but it hardly matters. “I also find it hard not to love you.”

Amazing, how much a person can adore and despise a smirk at the same time.

“I have that effect on people.”

“Which is why Reginald threw you behind bars when he first met you.”

“Yes, because your law enforcement is truly immaculate. I believe my breaking the law had more to do with my imprisonment than my charms anyhow.” Milo shrugs, folding his hands behind his head before he continues. “Speaking of which, did you know that Reggie cheats at poker?”

“Does he?” Technically, what he does in his free time is his own business, but it’s terribly difficult to ignore how bitterly Milo says it.

“Yes- and he’s woefully good at getting away with it.”

“Wonderful. I was beginning to think all of our games had been for naught.”

Isa lifts the cup to her mouth, the sugary drink still warm, internally counting how long the rare silence lasts.

“You must be joking.” Three blissful, golden seconds. That has to be a new record.

“I _do_ know the difference between a harmless card game and the imperative safety of the city, Milo.” The breeze outside sends crisp leaves soaring into the window as it picks up speed, and Isa knows she’ll have to take care of that soon if she doesn’t want mulch beneath her windowsill. “As does my captain of the guard, as you’ve noticed.”

Milo doesn’t waste any time in replying, straightening up and jabbing a finger in her direction. Honestly, while she does love him dearly, the man has no manners.

“When did you, obsessive commander of resources and time, ever take breaks in order to play _poker_ , of all things?” In all fairness, it’s a decent question. All of her time in Sky City was spent planning, researching, crafting, working on paper work and overlooking the many forms that were sent her way, and making sure that the people’s safety was not being compromised.

“Not until recently; the two of us are quick learners, you know. Your friend -Tom, was it?- taught one of Reginald’s lieutenants, and he taught the others, and so on.” Isa raises an eyebrow, steam swelling from her mug and curling towards the ceiling as she refills it. “There’s nothing wrong with a boost to morale. You are aware that I have other things to do besides quarrel with you?”

“Dimly.” Milo chuckles as he raises his drink, smiling when she does the same. “You will have to invite me to the next game.”


	210. Hitman

If Aiden wasn’t the person he was, and if this was taking place a few hours earlier and when he was down several cups of coffee, maybe the door slamming would’ve been enough to get him to jump.

However, it was nine in the morning and he’d had his caffeine, so the quiet clicking that came when the locks were undone in quick succession was no surprise.

After all, Lukas had the keys and combinations for each and every one.

The already poorly muffled sounds of the traffic outside and the construction taking place a few houses over came in loud in clear along with boots stomping on the frayed carpet. There was also a gust of crisp air coming with him, not stopped by the door being slammed shut, robbing the heat that had taken its time to gather in the first place.

“Hey Lukas.” Aiden smiled, stretching as he got up from his chair. “What’s-”

The question was cut off almost immediately, Lukas glaring as he spoke.

“Look. Jesse didn’t come to the meeting today. Say what you want about her. She’s weird, naive, self-absorbed. But Jesse has _never_ missed a meeting. And no matter what time you call her on the phone… Night, day, afternoon, morning… She _always_ answers within the first two rings.” Aiden rolled his eyes. Figured. Not so much as a hello. Nope, had to go and yammer on about his favorite. “So, what did you do?”

“I did something?” Aiden raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, the honking outside getting louder.

“You were the last one seen with her, Aiden, don’t lie to me. Where is she?” The corners of Aiden’s mouth were beginning to twitch upwards, despite his best efforts, and he knew if he smiled it was all over. He raised his hands as he took a step back, fighting to keep a neutral face.

“Look, Lukas, I’m sure this is some big misund-”

Lukas’s nails dug into Aiden’s shoulder and the brunette stopped short. Lukas’s grin, toothy and fixed, was as friendly as his grip.

“One last chance, Aiden. Where is she?”

Hell, what did he have to fear? He and Lukas went way back, further than some dumb broad that had gone and attached herself to Lukas. The intimidation tactics were cute and all, but Lukas wouldn’t actually do anything to him. Friends like them may have argued, disagreed, had the occasional spat, but they didn’t turn on one another.

“What’s left should be floating down the river in a bag, if hired help’s as good as they say.” The smirk became a scowl as he continued, muttering to himself more than anything. “And if her stupid friends actually stayed out of it for once.”

Those two weren’t as annoying, because, unlike Jesse, they knew their place. At the very least, they didn’t go messing with other people like their “leader” did, but they were never far behind her either. It was frustrating, having to pick an odd time and cause a major distraction so they wouldn’t interfere. And that had all been after convincing Jesse that the place and time he gave her was where Lukas insisted they meet.

There was protecting your own, Aiden could respect that, and then there was knowing when to give up.

Lukas wasn’t a big fan of the latter either.

“You got Petra involved.” Aiden’s shoulders slumped as Lukas let go, only to tense up again as the blond placed a hand behind his back and began steering them towards the door. “Jesse’d better be alive, for your sake.”

So much for a quiet morning.


	211. Grudge

A trip into the market sounded simple enough. They were running low on some supplies, including a number of vital potion ingredients, and the pantry needed to be restocked. They had feasted only the day before in celebration of one of the order’s best victories yet, but it came at a price. The cupboards and shelves, overflowing with food less than twenty four hours ago, were bare once more.

Ivor, with little to do but wait when it came to his brews, had gladly volunteered. It had been a while since his last outing into the growing city, and none of his experiments would require attention for at least a few hours. Despite what he knew was said about him, he did understand the importance of fresh air and sunlight, and getting it through something other than training with the others would be a nice change of pace. He could hardly start any new potions without the necessary materials anyhow, and no one’s equipment needed enchanting.

He’d have likely been better off biding his time reading. As it was, he had gone into the market, more densely packed than he could ever recall seeing it, and had not been half way through his shopping before someone’s notably sharp nails dug into his shoulder.

Turning, Ivor found himself faced with a complete stranger, shorter than him and with braided brown hair, her skin turning an interesting shade of red.

“I don’t think you understand how unpopular you are.” As if the first bit of unwanted contact hadn’t been enough, she snatched his arm, yanking him closer as the words were hissed out. “After all you’ve done, you’ve got some nerve showing your face around here.”

A quick glance at the area around them made it clear that people were beginning to stare, the closest in the sea of individuals pausing with their shopping to watch and whisper.

“Unhand me.” Ivor returned her glare as he leaned back, wrenching his sleeve from her fingers.

“Or what? You’ll create another monster?” Every word was louder than the last and practically spat at him. “I almost lost my daughter because of you!”

“Unless your daughter happens to be a horseshoe-” Ivor barely dodged her fist, ducking and sidestepping as it collided with the empty air where his face had previously been. In his haste to avoid it, however, the back of his foot kicked one of the legs of the stand behind him, and as he stumbled, trying to regain his balance, his back hit the items on said stand, nearly knocking down a stack of baskets and bins on display.

The murmurs grew substantially, his aggressor taking in several short, shaky breaths as she trembled. If it weren’t for the elderly woman who darted from the depths of the horde, Ivor had no doubt she’d have swung again. As it was, whoever the new intruder was basically rushed the brunette away as she grabbed her arm, the two muttering rapidly as Ivor regained his balance.

“The freaks they’ll let walk free nowadays…” They couldn’t bother to be quiet, mumbled though their words may have been, and the words were easy for him to make out as his fingers pushed against the grooved and nicked wood table.

“Leech, that’s what he is. Not worth your time.” The older woman continued on as they walked out of earshot, steering her friend out of the crowd that had gathered. Most of said crowd dispersed in a matter of seconds, drifting back to their own activities with glares and scowls as they lost interest in him.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, if not filled with paranoia, and it didn’t take long for Ivor to weave his way out of the throng of people and begin walking back to the temple.

The unshakable feeling of eyes boring into his back did not go well with the calm weather as small, puffy clouds continued to pass by overhead, bright sunlight shining through the poor amount of thin cover.

Making it to his laboratory was a relief, and Ivor was quick to bury himself in a book, his eyes scanning words that meant little while his mind stewed.

Feh. Ivor had no delusions about what others thought. Some tolerated him because he brought them back from the brink of death regularly, while others outright despised him for what he had done. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

The world hadn’t been destroyed in the end, but there were things more fragile than the sturdy rocks and stubborn plant life. Nature would heal, the event merely a setback in the long run. People were so easy to break, though, and those they left behind were quick to turn bitter. Some had walked away with their homes destroyed, while the less fortunate had been injured or killed in their haste to escape. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been chased away or locked in a jail cell.

The reason Ivor was even staying with the order instead of at his own house was because of the recent string of vandals and break-ins. Multiple times he’d return to his home only to find the door broken, the glass panes shattered, and juvenile writing scrawled all over the walls.

It had officially crossed whatever sick line it was treading when he’d woken up one night to bricks being tossed through his windows and the fumes of several concoctions. The majority of what he had been brewing that day became utterly useless, the flasks that were knocked to the ground predictably cracking in the debacle and the mixtures within splashing onto the floor and whatever happened to be surrounding them.

The following incident involving traps that may or may not have included some poison and harming potions had caused a good deal of uproar, self-defense or not, leading to Jesse’s suggestion that he stay at the temple with the rest of them until things died down.

As if it would.

That was his own fault. He had entertained the idea, the desirable delusion, had been so sick and tired of it all that he’d put his pride aside and agreed.

Ivor knew firsthand how long a grudge could fester and endure. It would never die down, not fully. Stories spread like wildfire about the new order, tales of their exploits already reaching cities and kingdoms they’d never visited. While there were a few tweaks and changes here and there, the same typical embellishments that were added to every legend and saga, there had to be a villain.

As terrifying as a mindless beast that wished to devour the world was, what moral was there to take from its fate? Don’t try to eat Minecraftia? Not even the youngest of children would be stupid enough to try. If there was anything a self-respecting storyteller insisted on, it was relatable characters and inevitable tragedy.

A team of once revered heroes broken apart by treachery and lies apparently fit the bill. Ivor and his friends, for better or worse, had been turned into shallow antagonists.

Soren had perhaps been hit the worse, having been the leader. It didn’t help that the last that had been seen of the architect was him retreating in the face of a gigantic monstrosity, or that they had yet to find him. The redhead could be terribly slippery when he wanted to be. Wherever he was, he was blending in well. If he hadn’t already met his fate at the hands of another or his own, that was.

Ivor couldn’t say he didn’t understand it. What kind of man would you expect to force his friends into secrecy, to lie to the world after being cowardly enough to cheat all of them to victory?

As it turned out, the same man who had a penchant for wearing revealing bathrobes. Who liked to sing under his breath when he was busy working or deep in thought, who couldn’t cook a meal to save his life, who loved playing with Ivor’s hair at the worst of times.

Their dead friend had been spared most of the disparaging additions and modifications, mostly due to the hesitance towards speaking ill of the dead.

Gabriel, on the other hand, who had spent years trying so hard to play the part of the hero they all thought he was, who had desperately tried to save everyone he could while also fighting off an agonizing disease, could hardly show his face anywhere.

The warrior was still out of town, on a trip that was more of an aimless trek to nowhere in particular, where he’d be for Notch knew how long.

“Ivor?” Ivor looked up from his novel, a finger pressing firmly against the corner, as the door creaked open, Jesse peeking in from behind it. “Is now a bad time?”

“Jesse.” Ivor sighed as he stood, leaving the hardcover on the seat of his chair. Jesse’s boots clacked against the ground as she made her way towards him, hands behind her back. “What can I do for you?”

“Petra’s back. She thought you’d like the blaze rods she collected.” Jesse held out a hand as she stopped in front of him, her fingers curled around the bundle of glowing sticks as wisps of smoke continued to rise off of them.

“Kind of her.” He’d been meaning to make a few more brewing stands. In fact, he was sure that he had mentioned so at dinner the other night, as an offhand comment. Not only had Petra remembered, she’d gone out of her way and made it possible. “I’ll be sure to thank Petra later.”

“Ivor…”

“Jesse, if you don’t need anything else, I suggest-”

“Petra also told me what happened in the market.” Ivor froze, his shoulders tensing as his body refused to move. “I’m sorry.”

“Petra was in the Nether.” She had been there since early morning, and only just returned. There was no conceivable way that she-

“She finished up a few trades when she got back, and a few of her regular customers told her the same story.” Ah. So apparently there was. Dammit. Ivor wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Jesse knew, or that she’d heard of it through the rumor mill. Wonderful.

“I’m sure whatever you heard was greatly exaggerated. Besides that, what do you have to be sorry for? It’s hardly your fault.” Ivor turned to her, the blaze rods making little sound as they were dropped into a chest. The cauldron beside it bubbled, green contents swirling as Ivor’s hands fell to his sides. “There are consequences to my actions, whether I like it or not.”

“It’s not right. You helped defeat the storm. Without you, we never would’ve been able to take it down.”

“I also created it.” In hindsight, it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. There was no changing what he had done, and Ivor knew that all too well. “And unleashed it, unintentionally, upon an unprepared world.”

“You didn’t mean for it to go wrong. If I hadn’t stolen that potion-”

“And if I had just paid Petra instead of trying to trick her with lapis, and if Soren hadn’t lied, and if we’d never found the command block… Trust me, Jesse, you’re only going to drive yourself mad with the what-ifs.” He knew for certain that if she weren’t so forgiving, he would be in a far less desirable situation, but she didn’t seem willing to acknowledge that either. “At the end of the day, it _is_ my fault, and there are plenty of people who will continue to be furious. They would be much happier if I were behind bars or simply up and left.”

“They’re going to be awfully disappointed.”

“Jesse?”

“I mean, you’re going to be stuck with us for a good while longer, right? That hardly sounds like ‘up and leaving’.” She shrugged, looking around the room as she did. Not a moment later her grin faltered, her eyebrows drawing together. “If you don’t mind, that is. It’s not as if you’re going to get any peace in a home of your own with people behaving like that, and you’ve been a fantastic help.”

Ivor was half aware of his lips twisting upwards as Jesse continued.

Now that he thought about it, he could craft more than the needed brewing stands with the amount of blaze rods he’d been given, and that meant finding uses for blaze powder. What luck.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever made a potion of strength before?”

Glowstone had nothing on Jesse’s grin.


	212. Hunt

The thrill of the hunt was unlike any other.

There was the fear of the prey, always bordering on palpable, the hammering of a heart desperate to keep blood rushing along with the pounding of feet against the ground, followed by the frenzy that came with seeing the body finally go limp, made all the better if it happened after a good deal of struggling.

Nevertheless, it could get tiresome if it was dragged out. The key then was to make it interesting again, to make the inevitable reward worth the pursuit.

Boy, was it ever.

It could’ve been lackluster, monotonous, a pesky matter that had to be dealt with that was taking too long. When someone got in her way, they were typically disposed of by the end of the same day.

Lukas had been on the run with her tracking him for three days now.

He could be surprisingly shifty when he wanted to be. Jesse had spotted him in one of the villages she had razed, and it wasn’t fair to leave him out, now was it?

It was funny, how following from a distance added a whole new level of fear and interest. Lukas was never sure if he lost her or not, their encounters brief and him always being let go by the end.

Unfortunately, boredom would set in soon. It was time to end their little game for good. Getting sloppy wouldn’t do her any favors, and there had already been the one close call where Lukas had almost died, not to her, but to a vicious spider colony. Jesse had hung back too far and too long twice, focusing more on playing with his mind than killing him. It wasn’t as if Lukas had any allies, none alive, to run to now, but it admittedly made her antsy all the same.

Jesse had just finished chasing Lukas across the nearby crimson desert, the giant dunes and sharp cacti doing little to hide him. The only real worry had been the violent sandstorms, grains of sand turned into arrows by howling winds that made navigation near impossible, the latest of which continued to rage on behind them as they tore through the drenched jungle. The constant heavy rains were a pleasant change from the arid dust bowl they’d abandoned.

Having chased him all this way, only for him to meet his end by a zombie or a creeper would be more than unsatisfying. In a similar vein, beating him within an inch of his life and then dangling his body above a pit of the monsters as he clung to life would be enjoyable, but not enough. She’d already done that once, the target that time being Petra.

Ah, Petra. She had been stubborn until the end. She knew how to scream, though, when it came down to it. Zombies were slow with everything, and they had taken their sweet time when it came to devouring the redhead. The cacophony of shrieks and moans had been something else.

That _had_ been a good one. Maybe a second round, this time with silverfish, wouldn’t go amiss…

No, no, it had to be something special. Something new. It had to mean something, bring a different type of thrill than all the already experienced ones. After all, Lukas had always been unique. He was the odd one out, amongst his old friends, even amongst his new ones, and he would be amongst the dead. It was the least Jesse’s old friends deserved.

There was no better send off. She’d have been insulted at how unimpressed they were with their own exceptional treatment if it weren’t so much fun.

Jesse grinned down at her quarry from her perch, a tall rock on the edge of a cluster of smaller boulders. Lukas was to her side, in what could best be described as a pit of vines and shrubbery. It was no magnificent trap, and if he’d had the energy, he could’ve bolted straight ahead again. Not that he would, what with the way he panted and struggled to breathe.

A few good hits and he was already getting tired.

Such a shame.

“Despite everything, it’s still you.” Lukas stared at Jesse, leaning against the giant tree behind him. Maybe “leaning against” was giving him too much credit. Three days of no rest, no sleep, and little to no food had taken its toll. His back was to the gnarled bark, but it looked like it was all that was holding him up.

“And you wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?” Rainwater trickled down from the thick covering above them, dripping through the blanket of foliage, the drumming of the downpour somewhat muted.

“That’s not quite what I mean.” Lukas shook his head, the tattered shoulder of his jacket slipping as he did. “The Jesse I know would never do this, but I know she’s still in there, somewhere.”

Thunder rumbled, the lightning that accompanied it lighting up their unkempt surroundings for a split second, the flash reflecting off of her blood-spattered blade.

There was something to be said for terror.

Lukas reeked of it, and his expression was one Jesse knew she’d never forget.

There were bags under his eyes, deep and dark. His sluggish demeanor wasn’t enough to keep him from looking terrified, said eyes wide and body trembling.  His hair was mussed and packed down, covered in blood and grime.

“So?” She grinned, jumping down from the slick rock, her weapon shining as she stood in front of him. “You’re going to try and get her to fight back? To ‘overthrow the monster’ and take control? Plenty of people have already tried that one. They fell easiest. In fact, I believe Olivia was the first to use it on me.”

The inventor, bleeding and begging, hadn’t stood a ghost of a chance.

“That’s not it either. If Jesse could’ve broken free of you, she would’ve by now.” Lukas shrugged, tilting as gravity seemed to get a better grip on the builder. “I just wanted to let her know that I’m sorry, and that I hope she agrees this is for the best.”

Jesse’s sword sliced through the incoming net in an instant, the remaining thin rope falling at her feet. The holes in the unaltered parts were large, and the threads were almost wispy, threadbare to an unbelievable extent. It was shoddily made, especially by Lukas’s standards. It probably wouldn’t have been able to hold her had it somehow caught her by surprise.

Jesse laughed, throwing her head back.

It seemed that the end of the world really could drive people to all sorts of desperation, no matter how ridiculous.

“You actually thought that would-”

The sentence was never finished.

Because, Jesse realized a second too late, she had forgotten something. Rather, she had made a mistake. A large one, at that. Between killing the cowardly order members, along with Reuben, Olivia, and Petra, there had been a sea of others. Names, faces, strangers and barely familiar figures; they all blurred together in the end.

It was easy to get wrapped up in hunting down Lukas, build him up as the last of them. Her last real tie to anything she had before, the last thing that continued to hold her back and distort her mind, and once he was gone, she could finally do as she pleased without worry.

When it came down to it, she had made a terrible error and miscalculation, and a green hoodie could blend in horribly well with jungle vegetation speckled by shadows.

Later she would be sure to let him know how easily he slipped her mind. It would be good for breaking his spirit.

Right now, however, she did not have the upper hand or the time to make such a comment, and the world went black as the explosives, flashing brighter than a beacon and hissing like a sea of snakes, collided with her back, her cheek slamming into mud and moss when the blast knocked her to the ground.


	213. Scorching

Jesse's mind swims, goosebumps somehow making their presence known while the last of sweat is wrung from her body. The salty taste is overwhelming, whether or not her tongue decides to slip through cracked and bloodied lips. Her skin glistens, her clothing sticking to her as if it’s made of honey.

She wishes she could say the fall is graceful, at least in a remote sense; however, it's anything but. Her knees buckle and she follows soon after. Jesse's body hits the sand with an unceremonious thud, the scorching grit pressing up against her bare neck as the sun continues to beat down on them like a blacksmith with a powerful swing, an iron sledgehammer, and a mighty vengeance. She also wishes she could say that she got back up the next instant and brushed the fall off like it was nothing. That would also be a bald-faced lie.

Instead her fingers dig into grainy ground while she attempts to drag her body across it in a pitiful example of a crawl.

If there's one thing to be grateful for, it's that the nosebleed's stopped- Nope, never mind, there it goes again. Yup, that blood's oozing down from her. Jesse wonders how long it's been going. She'd check to see if there's a new layer of red painting her front, but her arms protest against the mere idea of pushing against the ground, even if it's for something as simple as sitting up.

That seems a bit beyond her at the moment, easy as she knows it should be.

"Come on Jesse, let's get you back up." Her companion’s voice is almost unfamiliar, the way it’s croaked out.

"Lukas, I can't." The words are clunky and awkward, stumbling as they make it past a desert of a mouth and a swollen tongue that stays limp and useless. Maybe she's swallowed some sand, maybe she hasn't, but either way her throat's coated in sandpaper and forcing out her voice makes it ache and protest.

"I need you, though." It takes Jesse a second to notice what's been offered to her, made no easier by the blazing light surrounding him and making him appear little more than a shadow. Fingers wiggle, though, giving away that it's a hand. That's definitely a hand he's offering her, a bare one, given that his woolen gloves long since stuffed away to where they won't add to the smothering heat. "Come on."

"I know." Those words alone cut into her like knives. She knows she should be better than this, that she should be able to help him instead of drag him down, but her body refuses to cooperate. "It's... it's not that I won't; it's that I _can't_. My legs- they won't hold me up."

"Jesse..."

"I... I'll keep moving." She crawls a bit further to prove her point, but she's stopped by a new wave of exhausted smacking her. "We'll find them."

Because Petra and Ivor have to be alive. Jesse hasn’t seen hide nor hair of either since they were taken away by creatures wearing what appeared to be robes the color of their faded surroundings, but that doesn’t mean they’re dead.

They can’t be. If they are, she and Lukas have nothing left to go on for.

"Not if we're dead first."

The optimistic farce isn't simply not saluted- It's shot down by the somewhat unexpected macabre point.

Not that Lukas is wrong. Far from it.

They're surrounded by a sea of sagebrush, mixed in with intermittent patches of barren sand. The wind the does blow is a far cry from a cool breeze; instead, it's as hot as dragon's breath, almost more suffocating than the sunlight that bathes them orange and red. Jesse's lost count of the number of times that they've both hallucinated water, and chewing on the roots of the brittle and sun baked plants around them does nothing.

They have yet to see night, which means they don't have to worry about zombies hunting them down, but it also means there's no reprieve or rest from the day. The ruby, blazing ball of fire in the sky that's become the bane of their existence moves slower than a legless turtle coated in molasses, having meandered its way from the middle of the sky to a taunting position a slight bit above the horizon in, as far as they can tell, little less than a week.

The heat feels the same.

Wearing their armor seems suicidal, given the unrelenting waves of heat, but without it they're dead. They haven’t seen any other living creatures since the start, but with they’re luck, the instant they remove or ditch any of their protection, the deadly creatures will return. When they’d been around, she and Lukas had killed several snakes and managed to use them for food, but their bites were nasty. Jesse had removed one of her boots, only to be struck by one of the damned wrigglers, hiding in the brush where she hadn’t noticed it.

When she and Lukas have slept, they’ve used whatever materials remain to make a poor makeshift shelter. Said supplies are running out, the blankets and packs worn and faded, fraying and threadbare at spots. Shade won't help them, in the end. They have to keep moving.

Except that Lukas is on the ground, swaying on his knees as he stares down at the grit.

It doesn’t take long for his body to end up next to hers, and Jesse despises how long it takes for her hand to find his. She does find it though, sure enough, her fingers curling around his.

It gets dark, eventually. Breathing is its own challenge, and opening her eyes is more than she can handle. Her hoarse breathing pounds in her ears –or is that another headache- along with her heartbeat and what has to be Lukas's own rasps, until the agonizing melody is broken up by disconcerting beats that her brain swears are made by hooves. What would horses be doing in an utter wasteland like this?

Her senses have been lying to her since the beginning of this trek, making her hear the voices of missing friends and the soft babbling of brooks and streams and other sources of water she’s positive don’t exist in this world. Now is no different.

Time crawls by like they’re unable to, and then she doesn't hear anything. Another type of darkness takes her, and she greets it with open arms, the last of feeling and control slipping through her fingers.


	214. Freeze

People were, by natural and inherent design, built to adapt. It went hand and hand with them being made to last. It was easier if someone could simply build up a tolerance to or craft something to help protect themselves from undesired or damaging conditions. After all, what was the bigger hassle; making a shelter, or avoiding all unfavorable aspects of the elements? Even then, one would likely get caught unaware somewhere down the line, left miserable or dead if things managed to get vicious.

All the same, there were types of weather that simply weren’t for everyone. Just because a person _could_ withstand something didn't mean they wanted to or were supposed to.

Some people preferred to spend their winters indoors, while others enjoyed the biting, rancorous conditions and the erratic flurries of snow it wrought.

Ivor was of the former group, which he would admit to without hesitation as he kept himself nice and dry, although it certainly seemed that most of the others were of the latter.

Ivor had just returned to his room from the kitchen, plumes of steam twisting and rising from the chocolate beverage inside the mug his fingers were wrapped around, when the sea of murmurs and tired laughter disrupted the quiet atmosphere. It was reassuring to hear, to be honest; Ivor had been considering stepping out and dragging them in by force, if need be, before they all caught hypothermia. They wouldn't be so bold then, sick in their beds just because they had the desire to play in and sling about frozen water.

Orange tendrils flared for a moment, the greedy blaze licking at the slowly disappearing fuel and the charcoal splattered bricks that surrounded it. Gnarled bark fell to the ground as the largest log, russet and twisted, fractured, the smaller bit shifting atop glowing embers as the flames crackled.

The fortified walls of the fortress didn’t begin to hide how the doors were all but slammed shut, and once again Ivor was pleased to have slunk back to his room before they invaded. The couches had, if past experiences were anything to go by, been swarmed, and he had no doubt that most of the new and old orders were too exhausted to do more than collapse.

However, Ivor wasn’t surprised when he heard noises down the hall, the sound of something, likely feet, dragging against the ground, that continued to creep closer.

There was a muffled thump, followed by another, and as Ivor straightened up, he could see Jesse’s kicked off boots and soaking socks peeking out from their position on the ground beside the door while she poked her head in. He had to appreciate her sluggish care for his carpet, even if he knew the rest of the floors had likely become a mess thanks to her and her friends’ unintentional but combined efforts.

Jesse’s hair, damp but surprisingly dry given the circumstances, was lifeless as it tried in vain to frame her flushed face. The limp chestnut curls were also ruffled, mussed in a few noticeable places where compacted slush had no doubt been plastered multiple times.

Jesse worked well as further distraction from the tale that had been tossed onto the small table beside the couch as she shuffled her way in across the short carpet. The story had been developing in a decent, as well as deceptive, manner, until the latest trite twist.

Miscommunication may have done its job in regards to comedy, when implemented well, but its use for drama was atrocious, not to mention insipid and hackneyed. He had set down the novel and walked away for a drink, fed up. Using it as more fuel for the fire had crossed his mind, but he'd opted to leave it intact for Petra, whose poor taste in books was well known to him by now. The few recommendations of hers that he'd tried had all been abysmal, and he’d since learned that others had not had better experiences.

The object of his ire was further jostled, an entire corner with nothing below it tipping precariously as the rest of the book barely kept to the side, when Jesse’s knees more or less buckled beneath her as she slumped onto Ivor, seemingly not bothered by the loud and likely painful crack made by the contact between her elbow and the table.

Ivor was less indifferent.

“And why, pray tell, have I become your new cushion?” Jesse lifted her head, an almost impressive feat, though her chirp fell all too well to her fatigue, wobbling and coming out more as a high pitched whisper.

"You're comfy!" Unfortunately, he'd have been surprised if he wasn't. By summer he would be trim and lean, which was perfectly fine with him, but winter was a bit of a different beast with its horrible temperatures and storms. Ivor could blame either Jesse or Soren, both of whom were plenty encouraging when it came to his food intake, but in the end it was his own doing. It made winter more bearable, at least. Ivor was near taking the idea of hibernation in a serious manner, more than ready to simply sleep the blasted season away.

As if her answer wasn’t enough, he was also treated to those infernal puppy eyes.

“And you are a leech.” Ivor flinched back as her arm touched his wrist, the chill sending unsolicited shivers down his spine. “As well as freezing! Get in here.”

Ivor untangled himself from the nest of heated blankets and quilts, lifting it to let Jesse in. She dove under the offered cover, with a vigor unlike all of her displayed lethargic behavior, the rest of her as cold as her arm had been. Ivor’s clothing did little to ward off the biting contrasting temperature, her frigid touch sinking through his sweater with no problem as she clung to him.

“Mhmm.” Jesse hummed, her words slurring somewhat. “It got pret- pretty wild out there. The wind started pickin up, and Gabriel… Gabriel made it clear that we had to get back inside, had to before it got too dark. Was fun.”

And what a miracle that was. With Gabriel and Magnus out there conspiring together, surrounded by constant laughter, ammunition, and activity, getting either of them to pay attention beyond who their next target was became a bit tricky. Rather, a person was guaranteed to have more luck forcing an ocelot to calm down while screaming obscenities at it and attempting to pet it with a sharpened and bloodied sword.

Apparently, the threat of zombies and the like attacking them after they'd been worn out was enough. Would wonders never cease?

“About time too. You’d been out there for hours." Ivor scoffed, rolling his eyes while he took a sip of his drink, licking his lips when he finished. "Did you all leave your brains behind in your haste to fling yourselves into the cold?”

The reply he received was another short hum, Jesse nestling up against his side while her eyes slid shut. It was perhaps the best answer he could hope to get out of her.

“Children, the whole lot of you.” How lucky he'd been that his potions had provided ample excuse to keep him inside and away from the chill. They couldn't have any explosions or disasters simply for a little careless fun, now could they?

Granted, it wasn’t so much of an excuse as it was a genuine reason. Losing cauldrons or brewing stands to volatile potions was far from enjoyable, and Ivor’s growing nether wart supply had needed tending anyhow.

Soul sand could get unruly when not treated, and the few crops that grew on it, the ones vital to his profession, would suffer.

It didn't take long for Jesse's breathing to slow, her chest rising and falling at an even, steady pace while Ivor began to feel sleep also tugging at the edge of his mind. Notch knew it would be better than attempting to resume his reading. Nevertheless, he did not fall to slumber yet, as it took almost as short a while for the hush to disband again due to muted footsteps and a nearby mutter.

“I see you’ve found yourself a friend.” Ivor turned as the cushion beneath him dipped, Soren sitting there with a mug of his own and a small smile that showed off the gap between his teeth. Soren’s shoulders slumped while he leaned into Ivor. Soren was wearing his usual clothing, his drenched winter wear and armor no doubt discarded for the day elsewhere. “Enjoying your role as a pillow?”

“I am not encouraging this behavior.” Even as Ivor spoke, Soren shifted closer to him, snaking a lanky arm behind Ivor and letting his hand rest at Ivor’s side.

“Of course not.” Soft, orange hair was up against his throat as Soren rested his head on Ivor’s shoulder, Soren's chuckle quiet while his cold nose, for a brief moment, pressed against Ivor's neck.

There were certainly benefits to staying inside and being the warm one.


	215. Prison (Aiden/Jesse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [X](http://lunaraen.tumblr.com/tagged/turned-tables)

Golden and auburn leaves crunched beneath Aiden's boots, a crisp breeze swirling the untouched mulch about. He smiled as he passed a group of hollering kids that were chasing each other with meaningless taunts and dull sticks, all of whom yelped out rushed greetings that were swallowed the next instant by more jeers, Aiden bowing his head to their nearby watchful parents while he continued on his way.

The number of admittedly already sparse homes and farms grew scarcer while the wide dirt path continued to wind, his shoes now kicking up miniature flurries of dust, the road eventually ending at a lone block of a structure.

The building, as new as all the houses and shops that made up the town, had yet to fade or bleach, and there was something to be said for the unmarked scarlet walls. It had no windows, the jail built to be more practical than frivolous.

Aiden doubted he'd ever fully get used to seeing structures that weren’t at least partly demolished, but he had no problem trying to get used to it. It was an odd change, but –like most of the changes he was adapting to- it was a good one.

In any other case, the prison may even have looked cheery.

Years of living in a constant state of paranoia had taught him well, however. The mere fact that it housed a criminal capable of wiping out every person within the bustling town didn't help either.

His target sat on the ground, back to the brick wall with her legs sprawled out in front of her. The torchlight didn't hide her sallow skin, littered with more scars than could be numbered, or her matted hair, her bangs falling into her eyes- It was no surprise to Aiden that any and all attempts to give her anything beyond the barest of necessities were met with wild and vicious behavior.  

The handcuffs weren’t just for show. All the same, they all knew Jesse could easily break out if she wanted to. It was a brick and iron prison, the best they could do on short notice, which meant it would take time to escape, but Jesse didn’t have a whole lot to do but rot in that prison so long as she stayed in it. She’d given herself up, so there had to be another shoe. Aiden knew she’d been trapped in tighter and tougher situations and cells before.

Except that Jesse _had_ surrendered and was willingly staying in a prison she could mine away. The bloodthirsty, violent, and known strategist who’d been in command of several other ferocious warriors and had taken a world riddled with war and combat by surprise was sitting tight, supposedly content to sit in a jail in a peaceful world.

Yeah, no reason that would bother him in the slightest.

“Gracing me with you presence so soon? I’m honored.” Sarcasm dripped off her words, the bitter tone almost welcome in how familiar it was. Aiden had been avoiding her pointedly since the end of the battle in Sky City.

"I came to see how you were doing."

“Lucky me." She stretched as she stood, various bones cracking. "Why are you here, really? For old time's sake? Not satisfied with your throng of followers?"

Aiden's fingers curled into fists as his eyes narrowed. Because _he_ was the one who was never satisfied, was that it? Aiden remembered "old times" in a bit of a different light, then.

Jesse was the type that liked playing with her food. When she wanted something, she knew how to get it, and she took her sweet, sweet time enjoying it.

"Friends. They're my friends." The words came out perhaps shorter, terser, than he intended, but there was no changing it. Jesse's lips twisted upwards into a smirk as she leaned back. It was lacking a good many of the sharper qualities it had once had, but it was familiar in a way that made Aiden sick to think about.

He remembered her nails digging into his skin, the hot shame of reacting to touches he should've been able to ignore, to overlook... And, of course, he remembered the little encouragements, the blackmail. Maya and Gill would be let off easy this time, she said, if he cooperated. It was his choice, she would mutter as her hands roamed his usually restrained body, because by that point he’d likely been tied up and/or gagged, but didn't they both win this way? He had to be fast with his choice, even if it was the same every damn time, because there was only so long she could convince her cohorts, so long that she herself could play nice if he didn't give her something for all of her generosity.

He remembered hating every second of it, loving it at the same time, body and mind aching whenever he thought of it.

"Isn't that _cute_? Speaking of- How's Gill? I'll admit, I'm impressed. I didn't think he'd keep those legs, never mind be stubborn enough to try walking with them." There was a ghost of a spark in Jesse’s eyes when Aiden moved his fingers, the digits half numb and his knuckles white, before letting them curl back into fists. "Of course, I suppose that's better than Maya. She didn't exactly get a choice when it came to that arm of hers, did she? And here I thought she'd know when to quit when we started with her fingers-"

“Will you just shut the fuck up? I’m trying to empathize.” Notch knew why- Well, technically, Aiden knew why. As nice as the people of this world were, they were kind to the point where it was unnerving. Mocking, he could understand. Hatred, disdain, teasing, cynicism… He knew those well.

“Goody goody. What are you waiting for, a cookie? Is that how they've got you trained?” Jesse crossed her arms. “I don’t need your pity.”

“You mean you don't deserve it." Aiden was also remembering how frustrating and infuriating said traits were. He grit his teeth, hand going to the hilt of his sword. He hadn’t forgotten who she was. "How many people are dead because of you?"

“And how many did you kill?" The question was thrown back at him with a venomous force. "It’s the way the world works. The way ours does, at least.”

"We aren't in our world anymore; things are different here."

“They aren’t like you and me. They’re soft, weak. Sheltered.”

“They’re good people.”

“And what would you know about good people? You even killed off good ol’ softy Lukas. He never did like fighting against you, you know." If Jesse’s gaze softened then, it hardened the next moment. "Face it Aiden, neither of us belong here. We’re both broken in their eyes. Evil. They fear you as much as they do me.”

Aiden was working on his temper, but enough chain yanking was enough. He got as close as he could with the iron obstructions, his nails digging into his own skin.

“Honestly, I have no idea why we even let you live, after everything you've done-"

“Then kill me.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? Kill me.” Jesse was at the other side of the iron door now, staring at him from behind the metal bars that her fingers curled around. “Be the mighty hero and slay the big bad monster.”

Aiden didn’t realize he’d pulled the lever until the door creaked open, and his weapon was drawn the next instant. Jesse didn’t bolt at the opening, as he had expected her to, but instead ended up on her knees.

She was serious.

He had his sword. It wasn't enchanted, but it was sharp and it got the job done. This time, he wasn't the one bound and helpless. He was the one with the power, the ability to choose what he wished and act as he desired. Who would miss Jesse, anyhow? Her reign of terror was over, once and for all, but she'd hurt more people than either of them could count. This new world may not have approved so heartily of killing, no matter how justified it was, but they wouldn't object. It was like putting down a sick and demented dog.

Maya and Gill would understand, and even Isa and Reggie would know why he'd done it, whether or not they agreed with his methods.

Jesse had hardly made herself any friends. The closest living example would be Milo, and he probably wanted her dead just as much as Aiden did. With her gone, the constant nightmares that plagued them all would have nothing behind them. He wouldn't have to worry anymore.

Jesse tilted her head back, her eyes sliding shut.

There would be consequences. There always were. He could erase all the progress they’d been making, he could send them right back to square one. He could delve back into the rage that was fueled by fear that bubbled beneath his skin and clawed at him from the inside out. He could…

“No.” Aiden's other hand moved to the lever, the door slamming shut while he sheathed his sword.

“Coward.” Despite being spat out, the word was as lackluster and limp as its speaker. Jesse bared her teeth in a mock grin as she glared up at him. “You murdered the others, what the hell makes killing me any different?”

“You want it.”


	216. Scare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [X](http://jesseoftheorder.tumblr.com/post/142193489110/okay-so-after-i-started-really-thinking-about-it)

There was nothing more exhausting than raising a child.

The basics were simple enough, given time. Keeping her fed, clean, and safe were elementary. Isa could never claim that Jesse wasn't endearing or heart melting, well behaved daughter that she was.

As it stood, however, Jesse was also at the age where anything piqued her curiosity, where every single thing she came across was seen as a game waiting to be made and explored.

In her personal opinion, Isa saw them more as incidents and injuries waiting to occur, and finding something safe for Jesse to spend her time on was becoming a harder struggle than she'd first anticipated. Jesse's boundless energy didn't help matters. The frustration that came with their limited selection of reading material was one Isa understood well, and, while training Jesse to properly defend herself was important, there simply wasn't enough free time for her or her captain to practice on end with Jesse. They both had their own duties to attend to, never mind the paperwork.

What Jesse needed was a way to pass the time without endangering herself, and, preferably, one that Isa could feel confident in leaving her to do.

The answer to their shared problem struck her in the form of a new cartload that arrived along with a hearty list of forms, the minecart filled to the brim with clothing and armor that needed repair. The idea was snatched and ran with in an instant, though starting had been a bit rough.

No one started out perfect, but it wouldn't do to have their limited clothes ruined further or made entirely useless simply because Jesse had yet to learn. Therefore, at first Isa helped Jesse along, Jesse's main problems being rushing or pricking her own fingers by mistake.

She had drawn blood once or twice, but it had only been a drop each time, and soon Jesse insisted on doing it without help- Though she also requested her mother's presence anyways.

Isa couldn't complain. The job was done twice as fast, and she and her daughter could share a hobby that was more relaxed and better fitting for an activity that occurred after dinner and work. When she finished with her usual duties, exhaustion was familiar, and training was not as desirable as it may have seemed hours ago. However, Isa was more than alright with working alongside her daughter, sewing while she listened to Jesse go on about her day and whatever struck her fancy.

It was perhaps slower paced than what Jesse was used to, but she didn't complain. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the chance to spend more time with Isa.

It may not have been the perfect fix for Jesse's boredom, but it helped, as mundane an act as it was. It was a good way to teach her responsibility without putting her in undue peril, too.

There were few times Isa skipped the opportunity to join Jesse, who was free to sew whenever she wished so long as there was available cloth to repair, which was also in no short supply thanks to the beating armor was given when the soldiers trained as well as the general wear and tear that clothing endured from continual use.

Nonetheless, there were definite times when Isa's duty to her city and people had to come first. Benedict had laid several new spawn eggs that morning, a sign of more to come. Isa would take the opportunity to try and collect new resources, including wool to make new clothing- while repairing did help, there did get to be a point where no number of patches or stitches could keep an item together. Jesse was not allowed to join her, despite Isa's plans to spawn predominantly peaceful entities. Though Jesse was one of the few people, other than Isa herself, to know what several of the animals were and what they looked like, the risk was too great.

A curious child, in a room full of chests that held some of the most precious objects in the city?

When she got older, Isa would see then. It was one thing when Jesse wanted to play with Benedict, when Isa had a careful eye on both of them and when everything had been locked and secured. It was another when Isa's daughter was at risk.

No, Isa would handle spawning the creatures in by herself and harvesting what she could until she was certain that Jesse was the right age. She was far too young, far too sweet and far too fragile, though she wouldn't like being described as such. Isa was informed on multiple occasions that her daughter was a mighty warrior, the majority of the reminders coming from Jesse herself while she held up her wooden sword with a toothy grin.

It was late when Isa stored away the new items and washed the blood off of her clothes and skin. Her usual robe was exchanged for a nightgown, and Isa's shoes were silent against the floor as she crept to Jesse's room.

The candles were blown out, as they were supposed to be, but Isa stiffened when she found that Jesse, despite her curfew having come and gone an hour ago, was not in her bed. Neither the pillows nor blankets were disturbed or moved, everything was as it had been early that morning, when Jesse had made the bed.  A quick search of the throne room provided no results, and the same could be said of the training room and kitchen.

Each step Isa took was quicker than the last when more and more rooms turned up abandoned. Part of her was desperate to believe that this was part of a poorly thought up game Jesse was playing, but she hadn’t done anything like this in the past.

Had Jesse strayed outside? What if she’d been playing around with the cobblestone generator, as she’d been told time and time again never to do? The lava would destroy every trace that anyone had ever been there. Or what if she’d fallen off the edge, tripped and been unable to hold on? Crying for a mother that couldn’t hear her before she dropped into the void?

Isa’s fast walk turned into a run.

Yet when Isa approached the room the two used for sewing, she slowed, her shoulder slumping and a quiet sigh escaping her at the crackling of a fire unmistakable and a familiar voice coming from inside.

The door had been left cracked open, and her fingers curled around the golden knob, Isa fully intent on scolding Jesse for giving her such a scare and for being up so late by herself, with _fire_ in the room no less-

Ah.

Hm.

Well, this was unexpected.

Sitting in the chair Isa herself normally took, somewhat hunched over to be at Jesse's eye level, Reginald held a shirt with several large visible rips and tears in it, a needle in his other hand. He seemed to be paying rapt attention to the much smaller child and nodded along as she spoke. The words were too low for Isa to make out, but the best Jesse's tone could be described as was solemn, punctuated frequently with a small jab or a little wave of the needle she was holding.

Covering her smile with a hand, Isa took care not to make any sound as she slipped back down the hallway and towards her room.

She supposed she could let Jesse stay up for a while longer.


	217. Bewilder (Jesse/Lukas)

Jesse confuses Lukas. He’s been by her side for over a year, yet she's the most puzzling person he's ever met. In a good way, there's no doubt about that, but it doesn't change the fact that she leaves his mind twisted and muddled like no one else can.

He's sure she doesn't mean to, but that's who Jesse is. She's got more energy than life itself, always bounding and zooming from one place to the next, and she has no time to be dragged down by the little things. Even the big things don't seem to get to her, and there's something Lukas can respect about that, as terrifying and crazy as it can make things. She’s got it down to an art, one that nobody else can dream of coming close to beating her in.

He's trusted her with his life more times than either of them can count, and that won't ever change.

Deciphering anything she says or does, though, is impossible. Lukas doesn't mean that in the sense of the commands she gives when they're on a mission or her direct approach to people; he's talking about the light in her eyes that reveals everything and nothing, the quick smiles and energetic movements that leave him dazed, the way she bounces back from everything and refuses to break where supposedly better people have. Jesse's like no one he's ever met before, like no one he’s met since, and that means dealing with her is a strange dance that's complex in how straightforward it is.

She's a hands-on type, and from what he's seen she always has an arm slung around someone's shoulder or is holding their hand, and she doesn't hold back when it comes to showing her friends that they're appreciated.

However, and while Lukas'll just have to speak for himself here, he can't recall her lips ever becoming part of the equation. Granted, his mind is panicked and scrambling while Jesse deepens the kiss that could've started a second or an eternity ago. Hell, for all he knows, this is common for her and the others, and he's just really been clueless and left out of the loop. He doubts that, mostly because of the sheer absurdity of the thought, but they've all done worse in the name of one another. If there's one thing Lukas has learned, it's that with this crew, the crazier the possibility, the more likely it is.

Even then, why this is happening now is beyond him.

A moment ago they were talking about possible repairs to the city wall, some fortifications to the temple that could later prove vital, and a number of strategies and maneuvers that the whole team needed to work on. They'd been discussing shipment numbers while overlooking the new gardens down below when Jesse cut him off mid-sentence.

Not that Lukas is complaining.

He's just not sure how to respond.

They've never kissed before. Not once was there a typical or expected celebratory kiss, not even when they were at their worst and most frayed when the entire world was being torn apart bit by bit and it looked like any moment could be their last. There had been group hugs and shouts of joy at surviving insane circumstances and conditions, more intimate touches like the squeeze of a hand or a hug that lingered in more than just his mind.

This is different though, it's not between the team, it's not about friendly bonding -at least, he really hopes not- it's a whole new experience he doesn't want to stop.

It's sloppy, Lukas is at a bit of an awkward angle, what with his hands pushing against the wooden railing behind him to keep him steady, but Jesse's lips taste sweet from the breakfast they had less than an hour ago, her skin's warm against his in contrast to the cool breeze that ruffles their hair and the leaves of the nearby towering trees, and there's a thrum of something in both of them. For simplicity's sake, he'll go ahead and call it want. That's what it feels like.

Perhaps he can later blame it on the heat of the moment, or one of Ivor’s strange brews that was somehow accidentally slipped into their drinks again, but he doesn’t want to stave it off now.

Out of necessity, it has to end, and their breathing is sharp and fast as they try to get air back into their lungs.

It won't surprise him if she smiles and continues on the conversation like nothing's happened.

So, and yes it's selfish and yes he's painfully aware of that and no he doesn't give a damn at the moment, Lukas follows it up with another kiss, this one much shorter.

As soon as it ends, he wishes he'd left well enough alone.

"Jesse?" His voice is rough, and it sounds off to his own ears.

Then again, maybe not. Because if he hadn't, maybe Jesse wouldn't be kissing him again, not bothering with a reply, one of her hands sliding up his side while the other hand yanks his wrist to follow her inside-

To hell with it all.

Lukas isn't quite sure what he knows, if he can separate it from what he desperately wants and thinks –he does know that his mind is on fire and jumbled and running in circles- but there’s not a doubt in his mind he’s wanted this. For how long, he isn't sure. He's willing to bet Jesse doesn’t know either.

Maybe she does. Maybe she had everything planned out and knows exactly what she wants.

Who’s Lukas to argue? There’ll be plenty of time for awkward questions and stuttered embarrassment, which with the two of them is inevitable, later. People might talk, but they always have and this’ll hardly change anything. And if they don’t get all the answers, don’t piece everything up nice and neat, Lukas has a feeling he’ll be oddly okay with that.

Where’s the fun without a little mystery?


	218. Shifts (Jesse/Lukas)

The vast sea of stars disappeared into nothing as Lukas's eyes slid shut. The sand beneath him shifted, grains clinging to his damp neck and hair, as he let the back of his head rest on his folded arms. His spine was curved thanks to the small dune beneath him, his head resting on the sloped surface.

The beach may not have been his ideal place to spend the day, not that a swim wasn't appreciated during the hot weather they'd been getting that summer, but something about the night made it seem like a different place all together.

It didn't hurt that the day had been anything but boring, jumping from one hectic chase to another, heated battles mixed in all throughout. Their injuries had been tended to and healed as best they could be by the end -Ivor was visiting Ellegaard in Redstonia, and, while he had left behind a large amount of fresh potions they all knew they could use, it was up to them to be careful- leaving them all sore and, frankly, exhausted.

They'd checked to make sure that Jesse had actually taken her potions, knowing her and her frustrating habit of undermining her own safety and care, only to be surprised to learn that she had without any complaints or issues.

Her biggest problem, the only one she talked about, seemed to be how everyone thought she wouldn't, and while she had acted confused, they all knew better. It wasn't that they didn't have good reason to worry. Granted, poor attempts at innocence aside, it was a good sign that Jesse was taking better care of herself. It would mean less near heart attacks for them, for one thing, and a safer, healthier Jesse.

The whole thing had started with a simple trip to check up on a practically unknown trading town far south, the journey taking a few hours and large patches of the terrain between them and the New Order dangerous, that had been reporting some minor issues.

Actually, "practically unknown" was giving it too much credit. It was as if it didn't exist. Petra hadn't recognized the name, Rorret, and while she hadn't been everywhere, her previous job had made towns with trade of high importance to her, from large ones with notorious black markets to the smaller ones with more desperate clientele. To add to it, there wasn't any sign of civilization in that area on their maps, instead only speckled with a few symbols that indicated meadows and a few light forests. No one they asked had heard of it either, and the closer they got the sparser and more skittish people became, the one traveler they'd run into warning them to turn back.

She wouldn't give a reason as to why, her words more cryptic and convoluted than an overthought riddle, and she'd said nothing more as she turned and continued on her way. Whether it was her warning or the fact that she was heading the opposite direction of them, the encounter left a bad taste in their mouths.

Still, a cry for help was a cry for help.

The rider that had brought them the distressed message swore that he'd been handed it by an injured man who'd dragged himself to the nearest settlement, a fishing village that had settled along one of the large rivers and had several ravines separating it from the attacked town.

In hindsight, it wasn't a surprise they found what they did.

The New Order had expected it to be one of their simpler jobs, if not one underlain with creepy undertones, only to be given a few nasty surprises. Such as the fact that the endangered "village" was more a pile of ruins by the time they got there, looking like the remains of a long gone fortress, and that their small problems apparently involved everything being a trap or connected to another trap. The first escape route, right back through the entrance, became impossible. Lukas was surprised they were able to hear anything at all, what with all the TNT that had gone off.

The close encounters with the pistons meant to crush them to death and the lava pits that had opened up wherever they tried to stand and collect themselves weren't much better, never mind the flaming arrows that sent both trees and vines alight.

It didn't look like the place had been attacked recently.

If appearance was anything to go by, was like it had been this way for at least a few decades, which meant somebody had called them there with the hopes of killing them. They'd almost gotten their wish too, with more close calls than anyone could count. The worst scare had been when one of the last traps had sprung, the ground opening up beneath them to reveal not lava, but a dark, seemingly bottomless pit.

It succeeded in taking Jesse, who was swallowed up by the dirt after pushing Lukas and Olivia out of the way. Her scream was cut off by the trap sealing itself, and Lukas doubted she'd been able to hear their calling for her.

That wasn’t a memory that was going to leave him, or any of them for that matter, be any time soon.

They'd searched high and low for her, a feat not made easy by all the flames and rubble. They half hadn't expected to find her at all, but if there was one thing they were all skilled at, it was denial.

Against all odds, Jesse found them first when she emerged from the billowing smoke and ashes, stumbling out from a half collapsed hallway. The stone bricks that had once stood sturdy trembled and crumbled while the ground shook, the cracked remains stacked sloppily atop one another in a poor mockery of the original solid design.

Jesse was paler than he’d ever seen her, covered in sweat, as shaky as a leaf in a tornado, and stripped of her armor. She had no serious wounds, thankfully, but her cuts would need tending same as theirs. According to her, there was nothing worth sticking around for, the entire area made of more traps and snares. There wasn’t much more that could be said before more arrows came at them, no doubt from a new tripped wire, and they’d scrambled in another attempt at looking for an escape. They managed to get away soon after, thanks to some quick thinking involving a bucket, a river several inches wide and no deeper than an inch, and some lucky timing.

The ride back had been quiet. They had gotten away with their lives, but they also were tired, injured though healing, and had nothing but burns and cuts to show for their efforts.

Being down a set of armor, one that had belonged to one of their longtime idols –and even after all this time, even after knowing they were frauds, there would always be something special about them- and perhaps the most notorious griefer of their time, was a nasty blow too.

By the time they returned, it looked like all they had left to do was crawl into bed and try to figure things out tomorrow.

He'd suggested a swim, and, while the others declined, Jesse had latched onto the idea in an instant. Everyone else decided to collapse, not that Lukas could blame them in the slightest, while he and Jesse went to relax by themselves.

Lukas was pulled from his thoughts, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile he didn't bother to fight as a finger began poking lightly against various spots along his face, focusing almost entirely on his cheeks and nose.

Speak of the devil.

"Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?"

The request wasn't foreign to her, and this was hardly the first time Lukas had asked. They'd done this before, on multiple occasions, and it had almost become a routine at this point.

Sometimes Jesse would use a pen, and while her art skills weren't anything special, Lukas was used to seeing simple patterns and smiley faces mapped out across his skin. Other times, she'd merely trace shapes with her finger. She hadn’t poked at him like that before, but it didn’t surprise him.

Jesse would carry on, cracking a grin while she answered that she could. He'd chuckle, telling her she knew what he'd meant. She'd continue anyway, and he wouldn't mind. The times she did it without a pen were best, but the ink would wash off soon enough anyhow.

Not this time.

"Sorry." Just like that, the finger was gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lukas winced as he sat up, eyes squeezing shut for a moment while he clenched his jaw. A stab of pain, similar to a metal spike, had struck, and he brought a hand up to his head. A headache wasn't exactly unexpected, not after the day they'd had, but it refused to leave, popping up at the worst of times. It made swimming with Jesse a hassle, their random bouts of tickle fights and chases made awkward or difficult, usually, frustratingly enough, right before Lukas could succeed or laugh along with Jesse.

Honestly, both he and Jesse had had their arms around or hands on one another at almost all times, headaches be damned. Nearly losing her like that… it wasn’t something he wanted a repeat of.

"I guess I'm tired." Jesse shook her head, shifting from her spot beside him. She was sitting on her knees, her toes digging into the sand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a downer."

"No, no, it's fine—" Lukas covered his mouth to stifle a yawn— "it's not your fault. Do you want to start heading back?"

"We could sleep out here."

"Doesn't exactly sound safe." Lukas looked around, the ocean naturally devoid of monsters, and the area further behind them where the grass and sand mingled covered by their scattered torches.

He had no idea what the already immense blanket of stars above would look like without them, but they were what kept him and Jesse safe when they got back to shore.

"You really want to leave?" A light breeze began to pick up as Jesse gestured to the sea, a near constant salty spray hitting the beach as waves lapped at the shore. "I can't tell you how much I missed this."

"... Jesse, we were here last week."

It had been with the rest of the order, after a far more successful and much faster trip that had finished just after the sun rose, their day at the beach beginning at noon and ending long after the sun had set. It wasn't anything new for them, when they had the time. They could always come back later.

Being ambushed without a weapon and in nothing but a suit wasn't something either wanted. His armor and their weapons may have been only a short distance away, as they had been discarded, admittedly rather quickly, and tossed into a small pile, but the few seconds it would take could mean life or death.

"I know. But I mean, we'll be able to handle it," Jesse leaned into him, "it's not like a zombie could stand a chance against us. I don't know about you, but I don't think I could walk back if I tried. You were already dozing off."

"We'll see." She had a point. If Jesse hadn't started messing with his freckles, Lukas didn't doubt that he'd have been asleep by now. Still, finishing the day with being blown up by a creeper didn't sound appealing. "Are you hungry?"

They had brought along a little food in the unlikely case that their appetites would find them after their swim, though Lukas’s fatigue had beat back most of his appetite. He figured the same was true for Jesse.

"Yes." The answer was immediate. "...You?"

Well, they hadn't really had a chance to eat, as running for their lives tended to take priority over lunch.

Lukas chuckled and stretched, his fingers digging into the sand. He turned, pretty much lying down as he dug through their heap of belongings, his chest and stomach to the shifting sand.

It didn't take more than a second for Lukas to find what he was looking for, and the wicker basket was set down between them as he sat back up.

There wasn't much in there, but that was alright. Lukas picked a small cookie for himself, chocolate chip and a few days old if the taste, not hard but certainly not soft, was anything to go by. All the same, it was finished quickly enough, and he started collecting his armor. He was putting his gloves back on when he turned to Jesse.

"Are you sure you-"

Lukas froze.

Jesse had chosen a sandwich, and by the looks of things was half done with it, the ingredients showing through the side as she took another bite.

The most obvious of said ingredients being meat.

Jesse despised eating meat, and wouldn't do it if she was paid. While Jesse was alright with her friends doing it, she'd never be able to bring herself to doing the same, and they all respected that.

The real kicker?

Not only was it meat, but it was pork.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Oh, this?" Jesse's eyes met his as she looked up from the sandwich. She shrugged, her grip not lessening and the bread squeezed with notable dents beneath her fingers. "Somebody made it and left it on the counter. You were packing your own meal when I found it- Is it yours?"

"No." The words were dull, numb, and his mouth felt dry as he answered.

"Would you like some?" With a hand, she held it out towards Lukas, her eyebrows quirked.

"Sure.”

The offered food fell onto the sand, Lukas's arm wrapping around her neck as he yanked her back and twisted her so that she was in a choke hold.

"L- Lukas!" There were hands clawing at his arm, nails sharp as knives as they tore through his jacket without a problem, her body jerking and twisting as she tried to shove him away. The stabbing pain returned, and Lukas nearly reeled back at how painful it'd become. His head throbbed and ached, but his grip didn't falter.

He'd been right; there was something wrong.

It was just worse than he'd thought. Much, much worse.

Lukas leaned down, his mouth beside her ear as he growled.

"Where's Jesse?"


	219. Portal

Every now and then, there were some things that you just knew. Things no one had to say to get across, words that were heard loud and clear even if they’d gone unsaid.

The problem with these unspoken promises was that they could also go unheard, or ignored, or altogether crossed because no one had actually said anything. Vowing something in silence really didn’t mean anything if no one was paying attention or didn’t want to listen.

Stacy glanced over her shoulder, her feet clacking against the path as it changed, the red bricks of the road being replaced by cobblestone the further down it she went.

She was done with portals.

There hadn’t been a single doubt in her mind about it. After all the trouble they’d gone through for one, it was more of a reminder of what they’d lost than an opportunity. Stampy and Lizzie had been in the same boat as her, and the three of them were happy there.

For the entirety of a little less than twenty four hours, that was.

Happy wasn’t the word to describe it so much as reeling from shock and trying desperately to appear as anything but. Then reality began to hit, landing with all the force of a fully loaded, fully powered minecart, a force that continued to strike over and over with few breaks.

In less than half a day, they’d lost four friends. Their world had been tossed on its head and turned back up before they could even think about getting to their feet.

Stacy wasn’t good with goodbyes. She tried to avoid them as often as she could, but there were some she just couldn’t dodge. Death was the ultimate send off, irreversible and final. There was no going back, no cure or fix. It was a part of life, and she accepted that. On some level, at least.

Strangers died, people she knew of but didn’t know personally died, distant acquaintances died. Her friends didn’t die.

No, no, that wasn’t right. She’d known beforehand how easily they could, but, ignoring the latest losses, it had been a few years since she’d been “lucky” enough to go through that experience. The world could be a vicious and dangerous place if someone wasn’t careful.

Still, they didn’t die because one of them was a deranged murderer.

It was wrong and messed up and horrible in every way it could possibly be. They were young, all things considered. They had their whole lives ahead of them, so much left to do and see.

It was part of the reason she’d been so relaxed when she’d realized they’d all been invited.

Whoever the host was, they couldn’t hurt anyone without going through the others, and they wouldn’t do anything less than stand by one another.

So she’d thought.

Stacy looked up as it got brighter, sunlight streaming through the last thin wisps at the edge of the massive blanket of clouds. The quiet meadow was slowly becoming a swamp, bog water and mud overtaking grassy fields and patches of flowers.

She knew she wasn’t blameless. She’d been stupid and scared and she’d turned on her friends, even if Jesse’s crew was just as suspicious. Having three out of four of the suspects be her friends, and conveniently none of them Cassie, didn’t help, but it wasn’t much of any excuse. Stacy herself could’ve been one of the ones who were framed, or none of her friends could’ve been sitting in those chairs. She could chalk it up to bad luck, but that didn’t change anything she’d said or done.

It had surprised her that Cassie had relied entirely on one of them to set off the trap, either by accidentally pressing the button or doing so for curiosity’s sake. It was a risk, but a calculated one that had paid off in the end.

After all, their circle of friends wasn’t known for having the best self-control.

Well, that was assuming Cassie hadn’t had several backups in case they didn’t, which was unlikely given how crazy prepared she always was, but thinking about how Cassie had plotted to kill them all one by one and have them turn on each other didn’t exactly make her feel anything other than angry and nauseous.

Things had been weird since that night, in more ways than one. It wasn’t just the way she kept expecting to see her dead friends, wondered what they were up to or where they were before remembering.

It was the bags she could see under both Lizzie and Stampy’s eyes, their slumped postures and disheveled clothes, the way she more often than not had to remind them both to get some rest or sunshine when they’d never needed the reminders before.

(Looking back on it, that wasn’t quite right. It was just that Stacy was almost never the one to do it, even if she tried to make sure everyone was doing alright, because no one had to. Sometimes they pushed themselves too far, but the two of them were usually tired out thanks to having so many things to do and so many places to go and explore with their friends who were, of course, now gone.)

It was the drained looks she got from them, the same look she saw in the mirror.

It was the moaning outside her house every night, something scratching and clawing until she got up, drew her sword, and opened the door to reveal nothing, despite the waxy skin she could swear she saw through the window, cracked sunglasses and ratty brown hair that looked too familiar for comfort, the rotting flesh her nose insisted was there.

It was the lake near her house, the one they all swam in during the summer to get away from the blistering heat. Stacy normally walked by it on her way to or from her house, but had recently been doing her best to steer clear of it, especially when night was approaching. It was the startling lack of fish, the absence of those she’d used to regularly stop and watch. It was how the sand shifted and swelled when she didn’t look directly at it, odd noises that were almost human and almost otherworldly coming from below as it moved out of the corner of her eye. It was the possibility that if she stared it down now, maybe it would continue to gurgle and shift anyway.

Stacy didn’t really want to find out.

She didn’t go out once the day was over anymore, done constantly looking for the source of the light that followed her. There was something that gleamed in the dark, something that caught moonlight in the shadiest of areas during nights with more cloud cover than mobs, something that by all means shouldn’t have been there. But she had no real way of knowing, now did she?

Goggles, glasses, people were always losing those, and critters, cute or not, were always snatching them up.

That meant a mob was as likely to stumble on something and pick it up as a raccoon was. More often than not, Dan was talking about his misplaced pair, because if he didn’t leave them on his head, he’d lose them somewhere and then they’d all have to try and hunt them down.

Not that Dan asked them to, because he wasn’t a fan of shoving his problems onto other people. It was more that everyone knew what to do and he was stuck with their help, for better or worse.

His birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and Stacy was planning along with Stampy to get him some news ones, a better pair with a better band that maybe he could actually hold onto. They’d been pretty good at keeping it a secret, and she knew Dan was going to lov-

He would’ve loved them. She and Stampy had been planning to surprise him, and they would’ve if he’d lived.

There she went again. See, it was things like this. Stacy was walking to the mansion he’d been murdered in, had just been thinking about the aftereffects of his death, and yet a different train of thought obviously hadn’t gotten the memo.

This was why she was leaving, along with Lizzie and Stampy.

They wanted to go.

And why not?

She couldn’t think of a reason that would outweigh going, and who was she to say no to them? An adventure sounded nice. What was wrong with a change of pace? In all honesty, they were a stubborn pair when they put their minds to it, and there was no point in trying to stand in their way.

Stacy would also admit, if only to herself, that it sounded right.

Yeah, so they’d been convinced that staying as far away from the awful skull portal that had gotten them into this mess would be best for all of them, but they could be wrong. Things could change.

They had to leave. Maybe it was more of a mantra born of madness, but there weren’t any serious arguments against the fact that they had to get away.

One of the best things staying had going for it was that this was home. It was the only world any of them knew.

It was also the source of an unending stream of reminders.

Every place held at least a few memories regarding their friends, and no activity could be finished without being interrupted first by an unbidden association between it and one of their dead friends.

Stacy started everyday expecting, on a subconscious level if nothing else, to find that it had all been a crazy nightmare.

However, the reason behind her wanting to leave was not the people. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her fans, because she did. All things considered, they were respectful and understanding, and most of them were doing some mourning of their own.

It hadn’t been a nice surprise for anyone when it’d been revealed that several key influences in the entertainment world had essentially died overnight.

Like most people, Stacy and her friends worked as entertainers, sometimes doing solo acts that ranged from educational to funny, other times collaborating with one another and putting on shows together. Some of them weren’t as well-known as the others, Stacy herself on the lower end of the popularity scale along with newcomer Cassie Rose and the gruff Torque Dawg, but that was okay with them. They were unpopular and unknown only relatively, still much more famous than most other performers, and at the end of the day the fame didn’t matter as much as the love of the job and the fun they had together.

There were accidents, sometimes, but after a few healing potions they were all good and ready for more. It was never anything more serious than a broken bone, unlike the griefer displays that were famous for killing their own performers regularly. An accident was an accident, and it was one way to go out with a bang, but it definitely wasn’t for them.

Making sure Torque Dawg knew that was a bit of a challenge.

Not that they had to worry about having that debate again…

Stacy shook her head, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She began to play with the sleeve of her shirt, her fingers running over the stripes while she walked.

What had she been thinking about again?

Oh, right, leaving.

What they needed was a break. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t come back; they would, if they survived. They’d just packed enough to last them weeks without having to restock, had made sure to bring along supplies and materials they were positive they would need.

Stacy wasn’t sure how many potions Lizzie had decided to bring along in the end, but it wasn’t as if she was complaining.

It was better safe than sorry, and Stacy’s fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel. Had she brought enough?

It wasn’t the best time to ask a question like that, not with the tips of a certain mansion’s roof coming into view above the hilltops. The path wound between the various mounds, sitting at the bottom of the small valley.

It was nice, but if someone was being chased, either by mobs or people, they would have to be extremely good fighters to get out alive. It was pretty much a death trap.

Which, Stacy supposed, was the idea. At the time, she’d only thought it was a horrible coincidence when paired with the sea of zombies that had been chasing her.

Everything, from their invitations to when they sat down at the table, had been planned. It was Jesse’s arrival that had thrown a monkey wrench into the works, had gotten things started.

Cassie had been fine until Jesse and her friends had showed up.

Except that wasn’t true, because it had been a ruse since the beginning. Cassie had only wanted what they’d had, had only wanted to use them.

Cassie had dug her own grave. She got what she deserved, after everything she’d done.

It was just hard, in hindsight, to think of the Cassie Rose she’d known as the insane serial killer with an oddly colored pumpkin theme. The two of them may not have been the best of friends, but Stacy had liked to think that they were friendly and close enough.

Jesse’s group –Just Jesse, whose friends had followed suit, which raised some more red flags. Who introduced themselves using only their nickname?- was odd enough, if not nice. Cassie had heard about Dan finding the portal key and had turned to murder when it wasn’t obvious who had it.

Did they really want to land in a world that could have people like that, whose backup plan was coldblooded slaughter? Yeah, Cassie said she’d been trapped in their world for years before that, but how many years were they talking?

Justified as she thought her motivation was, she’d still killed people. She’d still killed their friends, people she’d tricked into thinking she cared about.

Dying by her own trap was only fitting. It was nasty, but there was a grim sort of satisfaction to be had about Cassie dying the same way she’d forced one of her victims to. Sparklez hadn’t deserved it, but a creep like Cassie certainly had.

Stacy’s boots sunk into the spongy ground, soft and almost more water than dirt, as she paused.

None of them, as far as she knew, had been back since their first visit.

The mansion wasn’t creepy in the daytime, sunlight glinting off of the windows and nether bricks while the equally bright light of the sea lanterns lit up the rooms inside.

It had been impressive at first, gigantic and imposing, then terrifying with a serial killer on the loose and no way out, and now…

It was frustrating to think about, but that had more to do with who was responsible for building it and rigging it with more traps than any home deserved to have. The only word that came to mind the closer she got was that it looked sad. Pathetic, miserable, broken, and empty, but not threatening.  It was beautiful and ugly, gorgeous when it came to its style and architecture and hideous when it came to its inner workings, but it wasn’t frightening.

It was amazing how much the darkness of night and a sea of zombies could change.

The blood splatters probably hadn’t been cleaned up, Stacy knew she hadn’t touched them, and it was a good thing they were staying outside. If they went in, with their luck they’d only trigger another trap and get killed.

She’d had enough of thinking about that.

Stampy waved as she came to the top of the hill, Lizzie going through a leather pack that was set on the ground. The two of them didn’t come close to blocking the telltale shine of gold.

Stacy didn’t think their world was bad enough to deserve a skull frame, but whatever.

“Are we sure we want to do this?” Stampy was holding the flint and steel close to his chest. He had little trouble when it came to worrying or panicking. Stacy let her hand rest on his shoulder.

“It’s not like there’s no coming back. We’ll be fine.” Famous last words. She wasn’t the only one to think that.

“Careful Stacy, you don’t want to jinx anything.” Lizzie’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was a smile all the same. Stacy rolled her eyes, letting her hand fall back to her side as she did.

“You don’t want to, Stampy? Because if you don’t, that’s perfectly fi-”

“Yes! Yes, I do.” He gave a short, firm nod. “Want to go, that is. I was just- just checking. I don’t want to force anybody.”

“Alright, then let’s go.”

Dan should’ve been the one with the portal key, a little voice in the back of her head grumbled, should’ve been the one to open the portal, to lead them all in -and they all would’ve gone, even Torque Dawg, because Sparklez would’ve insisted, and, even if he didn’t, Torque Dawg would just act like he always did and force his way in- but that was the cherry on top, wasn’t it?

It felt wrong, but what else could they do? It was wrong and right and everything in between.

Confusing, to say the least.

It wasn’t Stampy’s fault, he’d never hurt anyone on purpose. Even if he had stolen it, he hadn’t meant anything by the prank, and it was pretty much his now.

Maybe Stacy was wrong, but it felt like Dan would’ve been happiest if they used it instead of tossing it aside and ignoring it. Obviously, Lizzie and Stampy agreed.

She wanted to leave, though, which could’ve been affecting her judgement- and alright, yeah, she was maybe a bit desperate.

They all were.

Green flames that were taller than any of them flared, crackling and hissing as they sprung to life. There was no following snap, though, no film that signaled an activated portal, and the fire began to dwindle, flickering with the next gust of wind before it wound down and altogether disappeared, leaving the gold that had been set alight looking the same as before.

The three of them shared a look as they turned from the inactive frame.

“So…” Stampy was still hunched over when he turned to them, his teeth visibly digging into his lower lip. “Do you think I should try again? I mean, that wasn’t very- Do you hear that?”

He straightened up, his ears twitching as he glanced around, gaze flickering from one spot to the next.

They might not have heard it, but they didn’t have to. The next second they were feeling it, the ground rumbling before it opened up and they were left with nothing but thin air and their own surprise to stand on.

Limbs flailed as they yelped, and Stacy’s nails dug into the soft dirt while the fingers of her other hand somehow managed to wrap around something warm and fuzzy –Stampy’s tail, which continued to wildly jerk about even in her grip– but by that point she was a moment too late and they were left tumbling down into the dark, the light vanishing as the ground closed up once again.


	220. Dissolve

Ivor had been weird from the beginning, or at least as long as Lukas had known him.

Years of dwelling on revenge and growing bitter would do that to a person, he supposed.

Even by his standards, though, Ivor was acting off.

He had been since Lukas had first seen him that -No, night had come and gone, it was just that none of them had slept- yesterday morning. First it had started with his weird enthusiasm and energy, entirely unlike the venomous grump he'd been a few months ago. He didn't walk, he ran, he seemed to have something to say about everything, and standing still was practically a challenge. It said a lot about this enchanted flint and steel if it got him to act like that. What exactly it was it said, though, Lukas wasn't sure. Either they were in for one hell of an adventure, or the flint and steel was cursed, or somehow toxic, had decided to affect Ivor first for whatever reason, and they'd all be smart to slowly back away.

However, the strange behavior hadn't ended there.

His hair looked duller, less shiny than his usual greasy black, to the point where it was beyond obvious, and, even though he didn't care much for keeping tabs on Ivor's hair in the first place, Lukas had noticed.

It was possible it was age catching up to him. It was _likely_ , and Lukas hadn't exactly tried to contact Ivor since the Witherstorms attacked, so for all he knew it had been getting that way since things had settled down. He was just happy Ivor wasn't trying to kill them. His interest pretty much extended itself about as far as making sure it stayed that way, but, again, his priorities didn't include paying attention to Ivor's hair. He didn't have to make the effort, though, not with the way Ivor seemed unusually concerned with it.

The man did very few things subtly, Lukas was starting to learn, and there were few things he could do when stuck in a jail cell with the man but observe. When Ivor thought no one was looking -and boy he did not know Petra if that was seriously what he assumed, because Lukas knew she was noticing just as much as he was if not more- he would fiddle with it, pulling one of the nearest bits closer so that he could look at it.

Whatever Ivor saw, he wasn’t happy with, if the furrowed brow and frown were anything to go by.

Then they'd gotten out of the lake and Ivor's hair, though dripping wet and drenched like the rest of him, was as bleached as a sandblasted bone that had been sitting out in the sun for days on end.

There was no way that Isa, shrewd and cunning as they got, didn't notice, but she was either too polite, too confused, still reeling from shock at the fact that there was an entire world of bountiful resources for her and her people to live on now, or too distracted by her bickering with Milo, which had started almost as soon as they'd managed to drag themselves from the water, to say anything. Lukas hadn't spoken up because they were wrapping things up and Ivor didn’t look keen on the idea of having to explain himself. Why Petra and Jesse had stayed quiet, Lukas didn't know, but he was willing to bet it was for similar reasons.

Once they made it through the portal, only to find a hall of the things, they were distracted by more pressing matters. Because frankly, there wasn't much that was more crushing. They weren't already stuck in another world, but the hundreds of portals promised that things wouldn't be easy. How would they know which one was theirs? Was there even a portal to their world here? How many portal halls were there?

It seemed never ending, the other end so far away that it was shrouded in shadows, the glows of the portals and the scattered about torches too dim to be seen.

There was a chill that refused to be ignored as it seeped under his clothes and into his skin, one hardly mitigated by the inky void of a ceiling and swirling portals that pulled at whatever heat they had. Though by all means it shouldn’t have been possible for it to exist, the hairs on the back of Lukas’s neck stood straight up as a light breeze pulled at Lukas’s sagging hair, making its wet, dripping tips brush against his exposed neck. His clothes were likewise tugged, just as soaked with sweat and water as the rest of him, further driving in the cold. The whistling of the wind wound and echoed throughout the hallway.

In a weird way, it felt good after all the chaos they’d gone through, refreshing as it both woke them up and drove the heat away from their drenched and battered bodies.

It was also uncanny and petrifying.

How long would it take them to get home?

Would they even get home?

The questions became darker and drearier, and Jesse’s attempts at an upbeat attitude and smile, however forced, were appreciated and probably best for all of them.

Thinking like that for too long wasn’t good for anybody.

Lukas was inspecting a portal with a glowstone frame, the pearly swirling film inside almost blinding, when Ivor cleared his throat.

The three of them turned to Ivor, who was standing with his hands behind his back.

Oh, right. There was still the matter of the unexpected color changing hair to deal with.

"There’s something you need to know."

"Is it about your hair?" Petra stood beside Jesse, who'd been staring down the long hall while they talked. Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to her, the usual ache battle brought, or the frustration of not ending up at home, but the question held no friendly or polite pretenses.

"It involves that, yes."

Ivor was shaking.

And it wasn’t out of excitement.

He wouldn’t look any of them in the eye.

Lukas had seen the man angry more times than he could count, and he'd seen Ivor somber. He had even seen him giddy.

He couldn't think of the last time he'd seen Ivor scared.

What in the world was he worried about?

"My hair- It's-" Ivor cut his own stutters off, words clipped and curt when he began again, "This is my natural appearance. It is by no means new to me, and until recently I managed to hide it through regularly using ink. Our dip in the lake must have been enough to wash the old ink out."

There weren't any quick replies to that.

Well, what could they say?

The silence began to drag, but before any of them could say something and break it, Ivor let out a terse sigh and began to remove something from his eyes.

Contacts.

Ivor pocketed them in his robe, tilting his head up as he stared Jesse down.

His eyes were red. Not bloodshot, or red rimmed, as if he'd been crying, the irises instead completely filled with the color and the whites of his eyes still visible.

Lukas could honestly say he'd never seen anything like it.

Ivor opened his mouth, but he said nothing, ultimately choosing to close it again.

“ _Notch_ …” Petra and Lukas shared a look at the word. There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that Jesse, whose expression remained nigh-unreadable, was the leader, and whatever she said next could have devastating consequences. While in most cases they'd follow her lead, if she went too far, and as unlikely as it seemed it was a terrifyingly real possibility, they'd be playing damage control. Fear made people do things, things they normally would never do. Ivor knew it too, if the way he flinched at the word was anything to go by. “Ivor, you’re beautiful.”

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Ivor's hair looked much better, however much it may have stood out, now that it didn't look like he was dripping with oil. Which, in hindsight, it pretty much had been. Squid ink was hard to get out of almost everything, from wood to cloth, and even a good scrubbing was necessary if it got on skin. In hair? It sounded like an absolute nightmare to deal with.

"N-no, you must be joking." Even with the stutter, Ivor’s tone couldn’t get much drier. "'Beautiful' is hardly the word I'd use."

Ivor was the type to dig his heels in. That much was obvious.

Lucky him, Jesse was just as stubborn.

"What would you like, then? Stunning? Gorgeous?" She crossed her arms, only to uncross them almost immediately after to gesture to him, as if that would help drive her point in. If her eyes were any wider, they'd pop out of her head. "You look amazing!"

"Okay, I gotta admit- Jesse's got a point." Petra was grinning. "You look like a goddamned angel. Why would you hide this?"

"Yeah, they're right. You're seriously something! Have you even looked in a mirror before?" Of course he had, but that wasn't the point. Ivor's actual appearance was not a topic he was all too happy to reveal, never mind discuss, and that wasn't the sort of self-doubt he deserved. If he wanted to second guess himself before creating another monstrosity with world-destroying potential, that was a different story.

"I- I... Thank you." Ivor seemed on the verge of coming apart, an appearance that was only heightened when Jesse rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him.

By the time Petra and Lukas joined the hug, Ivor was completely leaning into them.

Soon enough they broke it off again, all weary but smiling. Honestly, Ivor having an unusual appearance was the least of their worries.

Treating him differently because of it would both be pointless and straight-up scummy.

The important part was that they'd survived Aiden's attempt to throw them behind bars and kill them.

Lukas flinched, his aching arm crying out once again, but he was sure it would fade.

“Why tell us now?” As soon as she asked, Petra put her hands up, like it would somehow placate Ivor and, more importantly, Jesse, whose glare was anything but friendly. "I’m glad you did, but why now? You've clearly been hiding this for a long time.”

"Would you leave me be if I didn't? I'd rather tell you on my own terms than have the truth weaseled out of me." Which was understandable, as that was exactly what they would’ve done. Such a noticeable change wasn’t something they could ignore forever, even with a sudden stream of surprises. Even if they’d just jumped straight into another portal, Lukas was certain it would’ve come up eventually. "The state of my hair is not as I anticipated. Today was supposed to be when I applied fresh ink. However, in all of the excitement, I may have neglected doing so before rushing off."

“You forgot.”

“Yes.” Ivor's scowl was more of a pout. “I had meant to do it after the crowd dispersed. In all honesty, I wasn't expecting you to find the key, not in the first temple or so easily. I underestimated your skill."

"You mean you tried to give us a false lead?"

"It was an educated guess, the most likely out of our options, but things rarely work out as they statistically should. The Old Builders were renowned for being both brilliant and secretive. I had assumed their traps would take you longer to safely crack. I suppose it makes sense that they wouldn't make the defenses too extensive; it would've drawn more attention to it if one of the temples was more difficult to search than the others. Once Jesse told me about your find, I forgot all about it. In part, I suppose, because I expected to be able to return by nightfall, or at least before being dunked in a lake."

"Nothing like an impromptu bath." Petra nudged Ivor with a smirk.

"Hmph." Given certain revelations, it made sense that Ivor would disagree. That didn't stop the first thought that sprung to Lukas's mind from being about how he probably rarely bathed, as busy, introverted, and greasy he normally seemed. Old habits died hard. "It was preferable to falling into an endless void, but not by much."

"Speak for yourself. I'd much rather get a little wet than go through that." Lukas continued to rub at his arm, smiling as the two of them sniped at each other, no actual bite behind their words.

"I’m sure you- Lukas, what did you do that arm of yours?" And just like that, any banter had been derailed. Ivor stepped forward while Petra and Jesse began to talk to each other in voices that weren’t quiet enough to go unnoticed, but were still a bit too hushed to be understood.

"Oh, that." Enough wincing and flinching and someone was bound to notice.

"Yes, that." Ivor was not impressed. The words were clipped as he asked again, and his previous embarrassment and almost shy demeanor were replaced by the far more familiar exasperation. "What did you do?"

"It’s a little sore after my fight with Aiden." The battle was one Lukas would rather forget sooner than later. Had he actually been prepared for Aiden's odd burst of strength, or stronger himself, maybe he would've been able to stop Aiden then and there and kept Jesse from being tossed after him into a supposed never ending void. Maybe it had led to them finding land, but Lukas wasn’t sure the near heart attack was worth it. He had a feeling Isa and her people would disagree. All the same, the experience had its uses. Live and learn. "He's stronger than he looks."

"Well, he obviously didn't have much going for him in the way of brains." Ivor smirked. "Had to compensate for that somehow, I suppose."

Lukas snorted, a few surprised chuckles escaping him at the comment. He didn't say anything else about his treacherous, and, as it turned out, murderous friend, and Ivor didn't prod further.

The silence was as comfortable as it could get with Ivor inspecting his arm, and a quick glance reminded him of the foreboding hallway, Jesse and Petra back to talking at a normal volume to each other about something or other, the portal they were standing in front of casting a blue glow over them as the sparkling insides swirled.

Lukas was sure Jesse would go back to poking, both physically and verbally, at Ivor once-

Huh.

Ivor's eyebrows hadn’t been visible. From a distance, it looked like they had completely disappeared, adding to how bizarre Ivor’s new appearance was at first glance.

But no, they were still there, pale enough to easily blend in with Ivor’s pasty skin. Being this close, Lukas could see that wasn’t where it ended either.

"Your eyebrows and eyelashes too?"

"It wouldn't be convincing, would it now, if my supposed natural hair clashed?" Ivor experimentally tapped the underside of Lukas's upper arm as he explained and Lukas flinched. Ivor raised an eyebrow, turning Lukas arm slightly as he frowned and kept his eyes on the limb. "Mm, this is more than a 'little sore'. Congratulations, you've managed to go and strain these muscles."

"So you've always hid it?" There was a click as Ivor lifted up and unlatched the top of a bag, which, if the clinking of glass was any indication, held far more than the haphazard stitches holding it together would suggest. The grey worn cloth looked strained, which was understandable given how much it was apparently holding, but it also looked like the slightest bit of weight would about rip the poor material.

"I began to use squid ink when I was a child. The ink is somewhat harder to apply without damaging my eyes, but practice has its uses. I was nowhere near as skilled back then, on account of not being as experienced, but I managed to successfully pull it off, with a little help."

“When you were a kid? Why so young?”

“Part of it was out of wanting to fit in. Another part… People who share my condition have been murdered and mutilated before. Sometimes it’s done out of fear, although there’s a persistent rumor that somehow our body parts make useful brewing ingredients. A merchant could make a pretty penny for themselves if they were able to catch me by surprise. As unlikely as that may be now, I’d rather not risk it, and I prefer my normal appearance to this.”

“Do they?” Ivor raised an eyebrow. “Help with potions?”

The laugh he got out of that was short, bitter, and devoid of any humor.

“You would have more luck using rotten flesh.”

“Hold on. So it doesn’t actually work and people still fall for it?”

"Correct. People will believe anything, if you know how to sell it to them. I've grown attached to remaining intact and alive, so you can understand why my interests may have put keeping it a secret as a top priority of mine." There was a short pause, one that was anything but comfortable, before Ivor held up a small vial, the glowing pink liquid inside sloshing against the thin glass at the motion. "All you'll need to do is take a sip of this, and so long as you don't somehow take cataclysmic damage in the next few hours, you should be fine."

Lukas did as instructed. The potion went down well enough, the thick liquid sticking to his tongue and throat and the sweet taste sticking to his taste buds, followed by a sour aftertaste that was short but made a lemon seem mellow in comparison.

"Thanks." Lukas stopped mid step, turning around. "Hey, Ivor?"

"What now?" Whatever patience Ivor had was entirely gone by this point, and his pale skin showed how deep the contrasting dark bags under his eyes were. Lukas doubted the lack of sleep was doing any of them any good, especially after dealing with Aiden and running, as well as fighting, far too many times for their lives, not to mention the emotional strain Ivor had both gone through and clearly been expecting.

"Do you think we'll get back?" Ivor's look softened.

"Will we be able to return? Yes." But that wasn't the question and they both knew it. "Will we actually succeed? I'm afraid that remains to be seen."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Despite what’s portrayed here, the idea that people with albinism have red eyes is nothing more than a myth. Although lighting conditions can allow the blood vessels at the back of the eye to be seen, which can cause the eyes to look reddish or violet, most people with albinism have blue eyes, and some have hazel or brown eyes.


	221. Adoration (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas loves Jesse. He knows it, as surely as he knows water is wet and the sun will rise. It's a fact, a part of his life that isn't good or bad, but simply _is_. When exactly he came to love her, though, is hard to pinpoint, and his original steadfast denial of such a fact only makes it harder for his future self to recall.

He knows this: He has admired her for as long as he can remember. Admiration is different from love, an overwhelming, powerful emotion all on its own, one that can cause as much havoc, destruction, and devotion, but he knows well how easily it can shift and morph into something more.

She had always seemed unattainable, since long before his thoughts about her took on any sort of romantic undertones.

When they were kids -and he wants to laugh because, really, it was only a few years ago, and he wants to laugh harder because he's not sure they're done growing up, young adults they may be, but while they're technically adults, they're also _young_ , what their experiences suggest and demand be damned- he thought she was the nicest person he knew, and that hasn't changed. She's never crossed him as anything but funny and kind, always giving of herself even if she's in no position to do so, even if she should be more concerned about her own wellbeing, and she’s been determined from the beginning.

Whether she refused to give in or, and it wouldn't surprise him, quitting had simply never occurred to her as more than a fanciful notion, every year she'd be back with her friends and a new idea in tow.

(He pretends it doesn't both infuriate and overwhelm him, the fact that every single year, save for the last, they'd never even planned ahead before making it to the competition, hadn't had different team names each year because they just weren't satisfied but because they made a new one up on the spot each time and couldn't care less.

He pretends he doesn't remember staying up well after the sun had set, torches and candles burning out while he and the other Ocelots pored over hundreds of blueprints with minute differences between them, arguing over the slightest of details to make for the best possible build. He pretends he doesn't remember bartering with Petra and several other traders for hours on end, weeks in advance, just so they'd have the supplies they needed when the day finally arrived.

A process Jesse and her crew apparently took care of themselves the day of the competition, mere hours before it would begin, gathering supplies meant to build designs that were always brilliant and interesting and made on the spot from thin air.

Lukas is getting better at pretending, and he pretends it doesn't frighten him.)

How long has Jesse loved him? He can't say for sure. He know she loves him -or at least, that's what she says and what he believes, because Jesse wouldn't lie to him, not about this, and even if she is he won't consider it, because he's weak and can't take another betrayal, dammit- but he doubts her affection for him is as old as his for her. It's not him trying to one-up her or mock her; it makes sense. If he was in her shoes, he's pretty sure he wouldn't care much for the leader of a rival group that harassed him and his friends at every shot. No, Lukas himself never took part, but standing by and letting it happen when he could've stopped it seems worse.

And he doubts she loved him when they were trying to escape and then destroy the Witherstorm, but things were so hectic and crazy at the time that it's hard to say. For all he knows, she's loved him as long as he's loved her, though he doubts it.

He's not one for self-deprecation, he knows he has his pros and cons like anyone else, his strengths and skills to combat his weaknesses and flaws, but he also knows there's no use in deluding himself either. If he had to guess, he would assume it was sometime after the chaos with the White Pumpkin, a time when she must have realized these were the people she was stuck with and that she'd better make the best of it. It doesn't sound nice when put that way, but it feels real. It's not dolled-up and hidden beneath thick layers of praise and romantic waxing. It is what it is, and he can't blame Jesse for that.

Lukas can never blame her, not for anything, not when she already blames herself.

He’s thought about asking before, has tried, day after day, time after time. Something always comes up.

He’s lying if he says the thought of knowing the answer, whether or not it’s true, doesn’t terrify him.

He asks, one night, his words unhindered and steady, his arms wrapped around her as they listen to the other two snore.

They've survived almost certain death again, tensions are running high, and there are more portals than anyone can count left to go. The question, while often contemplated, slips out, a hulking, noisy dog that's been pulling on its chain for so long it doesn't know what to do once it breaks free.

* * *

"Back at the temple, when we were showing Ivor the flint and steel. When you came back." The answer, her words slurred by the growing desire for sleep that continues to yank and jab at Jesse, is followed by a yawn.

It isn’t that it took so long for Jesse to find him attractive.

Anyone with working eyes can tell that Lukas is handsome. Anyone with working ears can tell that he's nice.

It takes more than a pretty face and a decent attitude to fall in love, though they are good places to start.

Jesse's friends have come and stuck by her through everything, and she owes them the world for it. They aren't with each other constantly, are people with their own lives and needs, and yet they’re not gone for long. They have each other’s backs and they will for as long as they possibly can- Well, they did, but this is definitely Jesse’s fault, not theirs, not when she’s the one who left.

However, people have come and gone before, their departure permanent, even if death isn't the one to take them.

She's not used to someone leaving and coming back.


	222. Ugly (Jesse/Aiden)

An empty alley, nearby torches barely making things lit enough to keep mobs from spawning and certainly dim enough to provide plenty of shadows to cloak anyone within, would be considered by many to be a poor and shifty setting in general, never mind a lousy spot for a date, especially with the wind howling and whistling through every crack and around each corner.

Jesse would be inclined to agree.

For one thing, the bricks scraping against her arms and back were as gentle as the teeth playing with her lower lip and the coarse nails that left imprints on her arms where she was being held in place.

They were far too close to the heart of Endercon for her liking, not that most passersby would care about them. They were hardly the first to make use of the less densely populated areas like this, though given how nearby most of the convention activities were, Jesse wasn't sure the description fit.

Not that she had to worry much about attention. She and Aiden were nobodies, relatively speaking. Aiden hadn't exactly endeared himself to many people, and Jesse was another face in a sea of strangers, one who didn't visit the town often as it was.

However, the problem wasn't so much about being seen in general as it was the possibility of certain people, who did know them, seeing them.

Neither of their groups knew about _this_.

It was silly and stupid to hide, but Jesse valued her friends more than anything. She didn't want to think about how they'd react to her with Aiden, the little fling she had with him that was seeming less and less like some random fun and more like an actual relationship. Notch knew she didn't want them to find out like this.

Aiden knew how she felt.

He made sure to exploit it at every turn, too. This was hardly the most obvious place they'd done this, but that didn't make things any easier.

The best immediate payback she had, since the nudges and mutters clearly weren't getting through to him, was to give two bites for each of his as his mouth moved from hers and began to wander, one moment nipping at her shoulder and the next sucking her neck. It was easier to steer him away from the crowd when he focused on her. He let go of her arms, hands pushing against the wall while her fingers curled in his hair, which was being as toyed with by the breeze as her own was.

His buttons were far too easy to push.

To be fair, Jesse supposed, as heat crept up her neck and her teeth dug deeper into his skin to keep a moan from escaping, hers were too.

Biting down had the same effect as the moan would've, unfortunately enough, and Aiden only doubled his efforts.

Jesse just about choked as she tried to bite back more sounds, the few that did get by both quiet and much too loud.

She was going to kill him.

"Any sign of Jesse?" Speak of the devil. Jesse’s hair brushed up against her arms as the wind continued to play with it, the only part of her that kept moving. There was no mistaking Olivia's voice, which was far too close for comfort and getting nearer by the second.

"Nope." The rougher voice that answered her was as familiar and louder, which meant Axel was even closer. "Do you think she's already back at the booth?"

Scratch that. Jesse was going to kill Aiden as soon as the others were out of earshot, if he didn't kill her first.

"I guess. I don't know where else she could be."

Several kisses were pressed to her neck, each gentle enough to set off their own separate red flag in Jesse's head.

Not to say that a softer approach was unwelcome, but it came out of nowhere and she knew what he was up to. There was no way she couldn't, he was hardly the subtle type, but she gulped anyway as her friends came into view, -and he was grinning, she could feel the smile against her skin- immediately regretting it but unable to do anything but wince and wait.

"Maybe we missed her?"

"Maybe. The judges are going to announce the results soon, though. What could she be doing?”

“It’s been a while, right? She might be waiting for us to show up."

“I doubt it.”

Jesse had no idea how anyone could be this lucky. Both of her best friends were busy talking to each other and not at all focused on the alley-

After all, it wasn’t something anyone wanted to pay too much attention to in the first place, and it wasn’t like they’d find Jesse there.

Jesse's shoulders slumped as soon as their voices faded. That had been more than too close for comfort.

They were right. The sun was pretty much done setting, windows from neighboring darkened buildings reflecting a sea of starlight, the glass protected displays and inventions nearby no longer colored by the last faint bits of rosy light, and if they wanted to get there in time they'd have to wrap things up. With most of the tension already cut, it was a simple matter of a few finishing kisses and bites.

High collar shirts weren't Jesse's thing, but she had a feeling she'd be wearing them for a while. There was only so much her overalls and regular shirts could hide. It wasn’t something Aiden would have to worry about, thanks to his jacket.

In hindsight, the parting swat should have been expected; Aiden was quite fond of it. All the same, Jesse couldn't quite stifle a yelp in time as his hand smacked her rear.

She whirled around, and, though he was already in the midst of the roaming crowd of strangers with his back was turned to her, she could just see his smug grin.

Jesse took a second to pat down her hair and smooth out her clothes before doing the same, falling in line with all of the other people milling about. Endercon was getting more and more popular with each passing year, and the center was filled with traffic coming and going.

It didn't take long for her to scurry away from the dispersing stream of people and to where the build she and her friends had made earlier that day stood. Her hasty entrance didn't go unnoticed.

"Where were you Jesse? We were starting to think you wouldn't show up." Jesse rolled her eyes and smiled as Axel grinned, but the wince that followed wasn't hidden well and she knew it. Making them worry was just above eating pork on her list of favorite pastimes. It wasn't as if it couldn't be helped, because she knew it could if she stopped jumping around the truth.

"Sorry, I just got a bit sidetracked." It wasn't a lie, and it wasn't the first time she'd used that one.

While their area wasn't next to the Ocelots', it was close, and both groups were in view of each other. Aiden had already rejoined his friends, and she pointedly ignored him as she evaluated their build.

Every year meant another chance, but she had a feeling this year wasn't theirs. Whether that was because Olivia's cynicism was getting to her and had helped spark the bitter certainty that was their rivals winning this time, like they did every time, or because the Ocelots' dressed up build was showier than their functional one, she couldn't say.

It was a rut they'd fallen into, much like Jesse conveniently disappearing the same time as Aiden after the builds were done every year.

Jesse had no idea what she would do if someone actually put two and two together. It wasn't an unlikely outcome. After all, it wouldn't exactly be hard, given all the signs. Her cohort didn't help matters at all in that regard.

Aiden looked as ruffled as he had when he'd walked away, skin clearly flushed. Jesse’s own hair was still mussed, despite her best efforts, and while she looked better, she knew she wasn't entirely composed.

At least she'd tried.

Jesse shook her head, letting her mind wander as they waited.

Aiden was, to put it nicely, something else. That had been part of his initial appeal.

It wasn't as if there'd been a time when she'd known him as kind, as nicer. She hadn't been duped or tricked, fooled by the pearly smile that could blind or the confidence he hadn't earned that was as painful as the sun's glare and blistering, the same way molten lava could burn and curdle skin before it even touched. There hadn't been a day, not a single one, that Jesse had lived through and known Aiden and thought of him as a good person or, Notch forbid, innocent.

Aiden had always been a lousy, lying, manipulating, good for nothing bastard, one who'd gladly take an offered hand and then stab whoever said hand belonged to in the back without a second thought.

But dammit, he was _her_ lousy, lying, manipulating, good for nothing bastard.

Sometimes it felt like they were at war. Other times they were doing nothing more than playing silly games, trying to one-up each other while keeping up the pace.

She hated him. She knew, without a doubt, that she hated him. It wasn't like he didn't give her plenty of reasons.

He hated her. He made it no secret. Her mere existence may have had something to do with it, or maybe it was her refusal to be cowed. He wasn't good at making these sorts of things clear. Maybe he just hated her for the sake of hating her.

The two of them had a relationship built of undeniable attraction and mutual loathing.

They mocked each other relentlessly, even at the best of times when they were relaxed and not brimming with energy and spite, a type of banter they'd grown comfortable using after years of petty rivalry.

The whole thing had started as silly experimentation. They were both too curious for their own good, and it had spiraled out of control from there.

Aiden was the sort of special person, not that his already inflated ego needed any more boosting, whose eyes she could get lost in while fantasizing about wringing his neck.

Needless to say, it was extremely therapeutic. What could she say? His eyes were a captivating green, the same shade as the abundant leaves that surrounded her home were in the summer, and his neck happened to be vulnerable and exposed when he sneered down at her.

So why did they do this if they despised each other so much? What was the point in the constant cycle of give and take, of hiding behind corners and from their closest friends when most times they could best be described as barely tolerating one another? What did they have to gain?

It wasn't the first time she'd asked herself these questions. Aiden, smug jackass that he was, had a knack for making her doubt herself. With any luck, she made him do the same.

Well, they were what they were, and neither had any real desire to change that, as frustrating and stressful as things could get.

What were they, really?

A mess. An undeniable, discombobulating, horrible mess that wanted every bit of this, from the moments filled with soft touches and kisses to the times they were ready to rip each other's throats out, that needed this as much as they needed to breathe. It was by no means stable. It was by no means a pretty relationship.

It was ugly, it was nasty, and it was theirs. There was something to be said for that, something that made it special. There was never a dull moment, no matter how softened they could seem. It wouldn't take long to snap back to razor sharp edges and snarky comments, rough bites, and sloppy kisses that would never stop at one if they could help it. For every second they had when it was just them with nothing to worry about, there would be two more spent with a constant worry and near-paralyzing fear, a thrill of adrenaline neither of them could bother to deny. (Hell, Aiden thrived off of it.)

And as hard as hiding it was getting, as their friends kept almost stumbling upon them more and more, she looked forward to every moment.


	223. Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [X](http://doodlingcubes.tumblr.com/post/147977608941/just-a-petraivor-fusion-i-drew-for)

Fire Aspect had been faced with nothing but surprises today.

They weren't the type to dislike surprises, per se, but enough was enough and a warning or two would've been nice. Of course, that would've made things too easy, too simple, and they couldn't have that.

Even their forming hadn’t been anticipated, not that they were complaining about that. It had been more than a month since the last time they had formed, and twice as long since they had formed in the midst of a fight. It was nice, really, to be back in the middle of the action, and probably the best surprise of the day.

The Order of the Stone had been exploring an abandoned fortress, half of it underwater, the other half covered in layers of twisting and intertwining vines and thick moss, and all of it dusted with a thin layer of snow, when the group had been ambushed. This had been one of the missions where they’d all been able and willing to go, and it was a good thing.

There had been more enemies than expected hiding inside the fortress, most of the shambling undead horde wearing armor and carrying weapons, and as such, Ivor, who had been convinced to go on this expenditure by Jesse, and Petra, who'd barely managed to avoid getting a flaming arrow to the face, happened to be closest to each other and found themselves in a bit of a rush to fuse, sniping back and forth while they did.

Needless to say, however sloppy the execution, they succeeded.

This was followed by another surprise.

In the month since they had last fused, Ivor had bulked up considerably. Wrecking his metabolism with a potion just because he couldn't be bothered to experiment on anything but himself first, one of his less bright ideas, would do that. Fire Aspect had retained their muscles, of course, but now there was a considerable amount of extra weight that had not been there last time.

No matter how used to it Ivor or unused to it Petra may have been, it was entirely new to Fire Aspect, who had always had a body that was more on the lean and limber side of things. Not that they were no longer as graceful as they once were, because they were and that was something they did have a considerable amount of pride in, but it had taken a short while to fully adjust to.

A short while that dragged on as arrows whizzed by, making dull thuds as they collided with bark or splintering altogether against stone, and their friends continued to call out to each other. Most of the yells and shouts were orders regarding their many practiced maneuvers and confirmations about which monsters were where, but there were also shouts for help that were just as common and far more frantic. Every cry of pain or shock, mixed in with the moans and growls of the undead, only fueled Fire Aspect's anger as they did their best to shake off how unbalanced they'd first felt and take down the newest wave of the enemy horde.

Easier said than done, but, ultimately, strong or not, mobs were mobs. The guardian hybrids, which looked more like vicious squid, if there was such a thing, than hybrid, that had been underwater were less easy to deal with. All the same, they were nowhere near as bad as actual guardians and hardly a fraction as powerful.

Still didn't make splashing about in icy water while trying to hit the elusive and frustrating monsters any easier, especially when coupled with their already mentioned issues.

It was a complicated business, trying to piece together what emotions came from who, and introspection of the sort often left Fire Aspect more frustrated than anything— But they had no doubt that it was Petra who fueled most of the initial distaste, Ivor's only real problem being how uncoordinated their first movements had been, the internal grumbling only abating slightly by the time the fighting was over. Petra's problem wasn't so much with their body, though that played a large part for reasons that weren't what they should've been, as it was a common issue that came with the mental-meshing that went hand in hand with fusion. She'd never liked being an open book, and before Fire Aspect had taken a single step, Ivor knew about some of her newer opinions that she'd rather he didn't.

They weren't going to think about it.

Because that always worked, right?

It was easiest to channel any frustration, and they weren't exactly lacking it, into their blows and body slams, which already had more force behind them now thanks to their new weight.

Using some of their other abilities also proved to be cathartic, at least a little.

By the end, a good deal of the vines and moss that had once seemed to be dragging the ruins into the water were now burned, smoke completely filling some of the tunnels while ash trailed in winding lines or varying thickness all the way back up to the top. The thin layer of snow that had managed to coat the ground was nothing more than steam. There were definite advantages to using fire.

Even after the early confusion, the battle had gone well, all things considered. Their friends had fought as well as they had, working in tandem like the team they were. No one had been seriously injured, any and all cuts quickly taken care of and healed thanks to their large supply of potions, and Fire Aspect had mowed down more mobs than they could be bothered to count. Ultimately, while somewhat slower, there was also much more force behind their attacks.

Hours later, they had returned home to have a bit of a celebration and a well-earned feast.

The day as a whole would've been fine, for the most part, if Fire Aspect was better at lying to themselves and if that was where the surprises had ended. Naturally, it wasn't.

So what was the problem now?

Well...

Their stomach rumbled yet again and Fire Aspect winced.

…Apparently Ivor’s monstrous appetite had also carried over, because why not? It was painfully obvious —or just obvious, but Petra was still grumbling about it hours later, so “painfully” it was— they had his extra weight. They were already soft, had more padding than they knew what to do with. There was no reason for the cause to not be included too.

It would've been nice if it had been skipped, but this fit the theme of the day much better, and it had the added benefit of humiliating them. There were a good many things that day that had been embarrassing, such as their internal conflict that wasn't helping anyone or anything in the slightest, and their stomach trying its hardest to out groan a zombie fit right in.

It would be easier to think about, at least, if Petra was simply disappointed with Ivor. This was his fault. No one would argue against that, even if they wouldn't use the same exact words. He stayed inside the temple, away from prying and judging eyes, and he contributed as much as anyone else while he did, making more potions than any sane human being could. He was as efficient and dangerous now as he'd always been, and he was comfortable and happy while doing it. With a reputation as a dangerous madman who'd almost ended the world, it wasn't like he had much of an image to protect in the first place, and yet he still got to hide behind the walls of the temple.

It was infuriating. Neither of them were strangers to hunger. They'd both been far skinnier than they had any right to be before, points where they were beyond unhealthy and in downright dangerous conditions, and neither were too pleased with the idea of ever going hungry again.

This? This was far too familiar a feeling for both of them, if for different reasons, and Fire Aspect uneasily eyed the food as they shifted in their seat.

It was as if they hadn’t eaten in days, a ravenous something gnawing at their core like a starving wolf with a bone. They hadn’t felt like this in a long while. Technically, Fire Aspect had never actually felt like this, period. They were, as most fusions tended to be, larger than the average person, and battle always left them famished, but this was something else entirely that they'd never dealt with themselves, even if it was old hat for Ivor and Petra.

They rubbed lightly at their stomach, trying to ignore the padding —the _fat_ , because, really, they knew all too well what it was, and what it was, was a topic they were still quite conflicted on, beneficial in battle or not, and for reasons they knew they shouldn't have been — in favor of willing for the growls to stop.

Unfortunately, their stomach, like most stomachs, was not a good listener and saw no reason to start now. If anything, the growling became louder. It wouldn’t surprise them if it, both obnoxiously loud and accompanied by equally obnoxious pangs, could be heard throughout the entire building.

It was nothing new to Ivor, who experienced it regularly, but Petra was wholly unused to this and definitely caught off guard, and as such Fire Aspect found it more than a bit worrying.

Terrifying, really, because part of them couldn’t imagine anyone eating as much as Ivor usually did and being this hungry on a regular basis, which another part of them knew for certain he was. It didn’t add up, and yet here they were.

“Aren’t you going to have anything?” Despite what her smile suggested, Jesse was anything but innocent. She sat right beside them, making glaring down at her all the easier. She was a conniving, sneaky— The thought was cut off by their stomach rumbling again. Jesse's grin turned more sly as she leaned closer. “Come on, Petra, it might even be fun.”

The point was, Jesse knew exactly what was going on and they both knew it.

“Jesse, you are _not_ helping.” Tossing her in the nearby lake was sounding more and more like a good idea.

Jesse’s only reply, cocky little shit that she was, was a grin before she returned her attention to her plate.

Fire Aspect shook their head, gritting their teeth as they crossed their arms. They narrowed their eyes as Jesse briefly glanced back up at them, her grin growing as she did. Yup, the lake was sounding perfect right about now.

No, they weren't pouting. They didn't pout. They were merely... Displeased.

They had better self-control than this. They were going to eat a reasonable amount, not gorge themselves, no matter how much they wanted to, and they wanted to more than it should've been possible for them to, or how little a supposed “reasonable amount” would help.

Their stomach growled once more and they twitched.

Fuck it. They were hungry, dammit, and the food was right in front of them. It wasn’t going anywhere, and it would just drive them mad if they tried to skimp.

Fire Aspect was, despite what they may have liked to think, not the best with self-control. Most of their desires they could ignore or push away, but there were some that neither Petra nor Ivor saw any problems with. Their morals were fuzzy at best most times, and the impulses that lined up with them tended to be on the... iffy side, to put it nicely.

Choosing to indulge their ravenous appetite was one of their better choices. Quite simply, the food was good. Already delicious dishes were made all the more tantalizing by the ravenous hunger that came with battle, and to say that any previous hesitations were forgotten would be an understatement. There was no stopping while they were still hungry and there was still food to eat, and they had been plenty hungry with no shortage of food in front of them, and any thoughts of slowing down were tossed out the window and shattered as they crashed into the ground at full speed.

Table manners, which neither Petra or Ivor had ever paid more attention to than the average person did in the first place, were likewise discarded.

It didn't help that every single dish, already delicious, tasted all the better thanks to how hungry they were. From the sour to the sweet, Fire Aspect found themselves enjoying at least bits of all of it.

In the resulting chaos, which they should've been at least a little ashamed about but weren't, Fire Aspect faintly noticed a good number of their friends disappearing, leaving the room altogether.

Once the gnawing ache had been taken care of, or at least sufficiently dulled, Fire Aspect looked around, raising an eyebrow as they did. Most of the seats were noticeably empty, only Soren and Jesse at the table. Of those who'd originally fled, none had returned, despite how hungry they must have been themselves after their long day.

“I think they’ll make something for themselves later— If they still want more.” Fire Aspect looked down to see Jesse, who had been eating at a much slower pace and seemed to be enjoying what she'd managed to snatch for her plate.

Few would want to be between food and someone twice their size with large teeth, sharp enough to be fangs and a demanding appetite. Staying seemed like more of a death wish than anything, but if anyone had nothing to worry about, it would be Jesse and Soren. So long as they were smart enough to keep their hands and other body parts away from the food that wasn't already on their plates, and they certainly were, they would be fine. Now that they thought about it, though, most of the plates were also missing. It wouldn't have been hard to duck into the kitchen for some food or to run with their plates if they'd managed to already fill them.

Fire Aspect couldn't say for sure, as they'd been too busy putting everything they could on their own plate to notice what anyone else was doing with their own. Still, they had a feeling that their friends would be just fine, even if their pantry would be depleted even more now than first anticipated.

Besides that, this meant more dessert for them.

* * *

Dessert stood no better a chance than dinner had, and was perhaps more at risk. That wasn't exactly unexpected.

No longer starving and nearly stuffed though they may have been, dessert was also delicious and they had little competition for it, even if it looked like someone had taken their share of a few with them beforehand in the kitchen. There was no turning down the assortment of various pastries and other sugary treats. However, all good things had to come to an end, and Fire Aspect stretched their arms above their head as they stood, the desire to sleep already tugging at their limbs.

They found themselves trudging from the table, mumbling a slightly slurred goodnight to both Soren and Jesse, and moving to perhaps the largest room in the temple, which also had the largest fireplace.

After everything they'd eaten, coupled with the familiar ache from battle, they wanted nothing more than to sleep. It was one of the few things they were in complete agreement with. After all, tried was tired, no matter how you looked at it. There was no bed or couch that could fit them, but that was fine. They could easily make do, given how content they already were, especially here.

The carpet was rather fuzzy, more like a giant blanket they couldn't wrap around themselves than a carpet, and the room had already been warmed by a roaring fire someone had started in the fireplace. Fire Aspect more or less collapsed to the ground, no grace to be found in the action. The resulting thump could likely be heard throughout the entire temple, but it was hard for them to care. They were lying right in front of the fireplace, the flames dancing about as the wood crackled and popped, and the carpet really was wonderfully soft in a way it had no right to be. The floor wasn't supposed to be this comfortable to lie on, but who was complaining? It was something they could definitely get used to.

They began to drift off, fatigue and a full stomach tugging at their mind with as much force as an anvil tied around an already blown-about and ruffled feather. However, pulling them back into awareness, or at least something closer to it, hands began to poke and pet at them and they stiffened. There wasn't any guess who it was, a bleary glance confirming that it was Jesse, and they found themselves too tired to do anything about it. They weren't sure if they even wanted to. They were exhausted, and Jesse's prodding, delicate and with a certain rhythm to it, was comforting once the initial surprise wore off.

Ivor was hardly unused to this, was practically an experienced professional when it came to these things at this point, and any fight Petra had in her had been beaten back by how tired they were and how gentle Jesse was.

It felt too nice to be something she could really argue against anyway, as content as they were. There was only so much arguing for the sake of arguing that she was able to do without driving herself mad. After the day they'd had, it only seemed fair to end the day comfortable. Eventually, as they finished slipping away, they could've sworn they felt a smaller body curl up against them, and there was little wonder who that was too. Jesse had always been quite the cuddler.

The sleep they got that night was perhaps the best sleep they'd ever gotten.


	224. Concern (Jesse/Lukas)

Bathing in a hot spring wasn’t the best thing Lukas had ever done, but it was close. It certainly felt nice after a long day. Fighting for his life got old quick, and it took a lot out of a guy. It was a real shame that they didn’t have any springs closer to them; he had a feeling he’d go far more regularly if getting to the nearest one didn’t require riding by horse.

Still, even if the return trip had left Lukas feeling significantly chillier than when they’d first left the springs, it was worth it. At the time, it had been enough to make him melt in the water, and now? He felt bone-tired and ready to collapse by the time they’d gotten through the door, thoroughly relaxed and sleepy after the dip and a few cold glasses of water.

It was a nice treat, one Lukas knew none of them had been expecting. Why would they? It wasn’t something Jesse often suggested; he hadn’t before now, actually. Nice or not, though, it was not as big a distraction as Jesse seemed to think it was.

He turned, muscles aching and the mattress squeaking as he did. Everyone else was likely already asleep in their own beds, or had collapsed on the couch before they could get that far, but Lukas knew Jesse was still awake. He wasn’t good at faking sleep. Jesse never slept on his back, for one, and the faint shadows on the wall outlined fidgeting fingers.

“…What’ll happen when I wake up, and you’re not there?” There was a pause.

“What?” The blankets moved with Jesse as he shrugged. “…Shouldn’t be a problem. You’re always up before me.”

For better or worse, he was. Even before the Witherstorm, Lukas’d had a habit of getting up early. After the Witherstorm, there were nightmares to get him up even earlier, and after the chaos of going through the portals, being controlled by Pama and actually killed by pistons only to spring back to life, those nightmares had multiplied and become a  _little_  violent, succeeding in affecting more people than just him.

Lukas had woken Jesse up by trying to kill him on more than a few occasions by now, and had woken him up by screaming far more times than that.

Jesse had almost died twice today, once by a sharpened blade and another by oversized and bloodied fangs, and enough was enough. It wasn’t something that he got to brush off. If people weren’t trying to kill him, then all manners of dangerous creatures were.

Healing potions got rid of the wounds. They didn’t take care of the memories, and respawn? It was no different. Death was a whole new pain he never wanted to go through again. It was something he never wanted anyone he knew to go through, as unrealistic as that was. Some of them already had.

_The pain had coursed through him like lightning; white hot and brutal. It’d happened so quickly and dragged on forever. He could still feel the pain when he closed his eyes; feel his body being crushed over and over again. The creaking of the pistons, the way they’d slammed into him before he could even scream._

It didn’t matter. Lukas sighed, ignoring the way his breath shuddered. With any luck, the wind whistling through the door covered it up so that an already tired Jesse couldn’t hear it.

“I’m serious, Jesse.” The room dimmed as a cloud passed over the moon, the part of the window that had been gleaming in the moonlight now dull and blending in with the dark. “I don’t mean waking up to find that you’re off somewhere else. I mean waking up to find that you’re nowhere, that you’re gone. Gone for good.”

“Better me than you.” And some people wondered why Lukas worried.

“Seriously, not helping.” The question wasn’t if Jesse had a hero complex, it was how soon said complex would get him killed.

“Lukas.” Jesse’s hand found his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Relax. When has it ever been that easy to get rid of me?”

The accompanying chuckle was soft enough that Lukas almost didn’t hear it.

“I think a better question is when it’s ever been easy to keep track of you.” He’d been separated from Jesse too many times for his liking by people who were more than happy to test out how easy killing Jesse was. It was a miracle he wasn’t already dead, honestly.

“I’m not  _that_  bad. Tell you what, I’ll come back just for you– haunting you might even be a bit fun.” Jesse grinned, teeth visible in the returning moonlight as he wrapped an arm around Lukas. “I promise.”

“…Just what I always wanted.” Lukas sighed, the exhale brief, sharp, and more of a huff, letting the topic drop as Jesse pulled him closer.

He tried to ignore the fact that he was worried as he began to drift. Worried about losing Jesse, worried about waking up to a world where a cold, empty bed and a Jesse-less life were the norm, and even worried about Jesse making good on that promise.

It was a stupid thought at best, a joke made to change the subject and get him to give up. Lukas wasn’t fooled for a second, but…

Well, Jesse seemed to mean it. Had it been anybody else, Lukas wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but it hadn’t been just anybody else. This was Jesse he was dealing with.

And Jesse, Jesse was odd in plenty of ways, and becoming a renowned hero hadn’t changed that a bit. Why would it? There had been that glint in his eyes when he’d said it, the glint that reminded Lukas every now and then that as much as he thought he understood Jesse, he didn’t. There was a good deal to Jesse he wasn’t sure about, and countless other little details he’d been entirely mistaken about before. It was the same glint that usually preceded his craziest and dumbest ideas.

And when Jesse put his mind to something, plausible and reasonable or not, he usually carried through with it. Lukas was certain he couldn’t do the impossible, hence why it was impossible, but Jesse? Jesse was crazy enough to make it work.


	225. Team

Though the order more often than not went on missions and adventures together, there was the occasional outing that only a few of them went on.

Sometimes, this was because the adventure was small and didn't need an entire team to take care of a tiny problem, and sometimes it was because some people didn't want to, couldn’t, or weren't feeling up to it. Not every adventure was a blast, though the boring ones, usually more diplomatic and social in nature, were far and few between.

Olivia and Axel both had cities to take care of, and though they’d managed to juggle that with searching for their friends before, it was extremely stressful and not something either of them wanted to go through again if they could help it. They still went on adventures with the rest of the order, but both of them were more likely to have to bail on one.

And, really, there weren't many things that could be done when somebody got sick.

In most cases, even if the entire order wouldn't or were unable to travel together, the smallest their adventuring group usually got was four, with Petra, Ivor, Lukas, and Jesse taking a few trips every now and then for old time's sake.

However, that became impossible when more than half of the new order was bedridden.

The flu was not enjoyable, and there wasn't much that potions could do but maybe help ease the pain.

None of them were too bad, thankfully, but they needed to rest before they could go anywhere. The worst had already passed, and no one had had to deal with anymore hallucinations or spikes in temperature since.

They were all still horribly sluggish however, and understandably tired. While it was alright to leave them without constant supervision —though Magnus and Gabriel had promised that they would still check up on them regularly just in case—, water and potions close nearby, it would just be cruel to try and drag them out of their beds and into some adventure.

The worst part might’ve been that Jesse knew that if she asked, they would do it themselves, however miserable it might've made them.

A relapse was the last thing they needed.

Seeing them in pain had been bad enough the first time, when all she could do was sit by their beds and wait. She'd tried to spend the same amount of time beside each of them, Ivor doing the same, checking on one of the ones she wasn't.

They'd all been good at keeping themselves collected when they'd been awake, but as their fevers got worse and as they began to slip in and out of consciousness, their composures did too. They would moan in their sleep, whimper as they were caught somewhere between aware and not. They'd twitch at random times, and the following whines made it clear that the involuntary movements hurt.

Things were worst when the nightmares came, striking at random times whether it was light or dark out.

Jesse had ended up with more hands wrapped around her throat during those days than she had throughout the entirety of their portal adventures —and was she ever lucky that their illnesses had made them weaker, because otherwise she was sure she'd have had her head popped off or her windpipe crushed long before anything began to fade—, and it was never hard to hear when someone started screaming.

It took the combined efforts of both Magnus and Gabriel to drag her and Ivor away so that they would actually eat and get some sleep, the duo also insisting, once the fevers began to go down and the nightmares finally stopped, that Jesse and Ivor needed to get out of the temple.

So, now that things had calmed down, it was just Jesse and Ivor out for a rather quick adventure, one that was only supposed to take a few hours. It wasn't something they did often, but that didn't necessarily make it bad.

(But it  _was_ bad. It was almost infuriating, how annoying it was, frustrating in a way she knew it shouldn't have been. She didn't want to be out here, away from her friends. Reasonably, she knew they were fine, and that they didn't need and probably didn't want her hovering over them, but she couldn't be sure, could she? What if something happened? What if— it didn't matter; her job was to make the best of it and focus on something else besides what would only drive her mad.)

The downside?

Well, it was harder for just two people to fight off a bloodthirsty horde.

Jesse ducked as another arrow went flying past her, splintering as it hit a jagged boulder and its various pieces ending up stuck in the thick webbing that was strung between the giant rocks. There was a familiar clacking and clanking as she got out of range. Jesse didn't waste any time in jumping before the skeleton could fire again, the rocks underneath her feet shifting and tumbling down the steep hill as she landed and began to run again, a feat that became harder as she made an awkward turn near the bottom, her fingers almost getting tangled up in the various roots that poked through the underside of the dirt above and beside her as she pressed her hands against the mound to try and push off of it in a desperate attempt to gain a bit more speed.

She was breathing heavy, with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she could still hear the hissing and clicking of the spiders behind her, low and constant moans indicating that quite the group of zombies was ahead of, if not also above, her.

Jesse was noticing a pattern when it came to most of their adventures. Would it really kill them to have one that didn't involve running for their lives from monsters?

Apparently, yes, yes it would.

The harder it was for them to fight off creatures, the easier it was for the creatures to find them in  _droves_.

The sky, the wispy sheet of clouds painted a deep orange by the setting sun, had become darker and darker in the small amount of time, less than half an hour, that they’d been here, with few stars and no moon replacing the lost light.

It didn’t help in the slightest in regards to the rapidly spawning monsters.

They were here because the portal atlas, while it had held relatively little information because they had no creatures or items from this world, did have several interesting notes, including the names of a few materials that Ivor recognized.

They were items either long gone from their world or ones that had just never existed there in the first place, as apparently Ivor had first heard of them from myths that had been warped and twisted by time as they were passed down through the centuries.

Supposedly, they were herbs and assorted bits of loot that could make almost ridiculously powerful potions, from healing to harmful, and could cause significant effects even if they were just eaten with no preparation. The thing that interested him most, however, was the totem.

She’d found that odd, at first. What was so special about a totem that he'd value it more than what might’ve been the strongest potion ingredients they'd heard of?

However, as he explained it to Jesse, it became clear that the totem was perhaps worth as much as all of the ingredients combined.

It was a totem that could save somebody from certain death, reviving them instantly. There was also the chance that it could revive someone who'd recently died, but Ivor was quick to point out that even in the myths it was little more than speculation, and "recently" probably meant a time span of no more than a minute.

He told her that after they’d visited the Old Builders' world, he'd assumed that the totem had been someone's mistaken explanation for respawning, their way of explaining stories told by people who'd competed in the games back when they were able to visit and leave the world as they saw fit.

Once Hadrian and Mevia had begun to snatch people and kept them prisoner, and Harper had fled with the Redstone Heart and made it impossible for them to take more people, no one would be able to believe such stories. The portal to their world had been abandoned when the Old Builders had been sealed off, and the idea of other worlds was quickly reduced to being nothing more than the stuff of myths and fairy tales. The concept of death naturally not being permanent in one of these worlds was even more unbelievable, and a totem or other magical object would be an easy way for a storyteller to explain it.

Jesse had never even heard of totems like that, and Ivor said he only knew about them due to some frenzied research back when he'd been trying to understand how to use the command block for his own revenge. What little he'd found on them had made no mention of games or tournaments, and he'd yet again later assumed it was the effects of time on ancient stories.

He was wrong.

The portal had seemed harmless enough, made of a material she was fairly sure was quartz, however damaged by age, with a light blue glow that held none of the hostility that radiated from some of the other infested worlds. One of the notes in the atlas had mentioned that there were "a few monsters", but she and Ivor had taken that to mean that it was only sparsely populated by the hostile mobs.

They were very wrong.

Jesse jumped again, fingers digging into the dirt as she hauled her body, weighed down with armor, up, running as soon as both feet were relatively steady on the ground. She ran towards what may as well have been a beacon, a glow in the dark that seemed to be attracting everything that could see it.

It was only luck that said glow happened to be at the bottom of a hill instead of on top of it, but Ivor was still risking far too much for comfort. Jesse wasn't even as big a target as he was and there was no lack of monsters chasing her.

Another arrow, the tip glowing, flew by her head and she ran faster.

Jesse ran over the top of the mound, and the fact that it was Ivor holding up the torch as opposed to the torch just burning on the ground was reassuring, as was the fact that more than almost all of the bodies surrounding him were limp.

Several zombies were on the ground, waxy skin covered in large, deep, cuts. One of the zombies was still writhing, its bleeding fingers curling into the mud and rocks as it rasped. Jesse didn't need to see the shattered glass on the ground, reflecting the nearby torchlight, to know that Ivor was well aware of the risks and perfectly capable of defending himself.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t worry.

With how close the glass was to his own body, she could only hope that he had been lucky enough to throw it before he had been cornered, as the back of his head was turned towards her and his robe hid any wounds that were on the rest of his body.

She would’ve asked him, but it wasn’t the most pressing concern. That would be that he hadn't moved, with more creatures closing in on him as he continued to tug at and pull away the moss clinging to the stone of the more barren hill opposite of the one Jesse had run over.

Jesse squinted as she continued to run towards him, the torch in his hand allowing her to see what he was focusing on while it also attracted more monsters.

It was a button, sticking out from the almost uniform mess of vines.

"Ivor!" He slammed the button, the thick vegetation and cracked stones parting to reveal a lit tunnel, the already golden light looking so much better than the dim and dark night they were currently surrounded with.

The shadows did well to highlight the crimson eyes of the spiders, and the sudden light did even better to outline the hulking, furry beast that lunged for her, Jesse barely missing its fangs as she sped up, one step behind Ivor as he began to sprint for the entrance. He paused for a brief moment in which Jesse slammed into him, having been given no warning and with a growing sea of monsters at her heels, sending the two of them tumbling inside as the machinery clicked.

The pistons clicked as they slammed together, barely missing Jesse's leg as she pushed herself away and to her feet.

Ivor had likewise stood up, and was leaning against the wall using his shoulder. Jesse put a hand to the smooth sandstone, laughter bubbling out of her as she doubled over, her other arm wrapped around her middle.

"We— we made it." Jesse panted, her relieved giggling interrupting her sharp breathing, and she grinned as she glanced back at the door. She could hear the scratching coming from the other side, but it didn't mean anything. The sun would rise eventually, and there was no way that some claws were going to break through feet of hard stone and machinery, even if they kept at it for the rest of the night. Even if they didn't burn or disappear in the day, it would be easier for Jesse and Ivor to find their return portal in the daylight. "I... I didn't think we were going to beat the pistons. Guess it would've been better than being eaten by the monsters."

Ivor's back was turned to her when she looked over at him.

"Trust me— being eaten alive would've been kinder." Jesse cringed, rubbing the back of her neck as Ivor straightened out his robes. Maybe it was just the old lamp light messing with her eyes, but he looked pale even under the golden light, and she could've sworn he was shaking. It was hard to tell, though, given that her breathing was still coming short and quick.

If anyone would know, it was him.

With one last quick glance back at the pistons, Jesse moved, her pace quick enough that she could catch up with and walk beside Ivor.

There were footprints left by their boots in the layer of dust that seemed to grow thicker the further along the tunnel they went, the lamps becoming sparser and sparser.

By the time they reached the place where the gently sloping and gradually widening tunnel gave up in favor of winding stairs, a smooth rock wall to one side and a large drop on the other with a much less smooth looking wall far behind it, the torch in Ivor's hand was the only light they had.

The change in the walls wasn't as instant as the change from path to stairs; the gap was new, certainly different from the small groove there had been between the floor and the wall only a couple of meters back, and jarringly so, but the wall changing from sandstone to smooth stone was more gradual, similar to how the number of lamps had dwindled.

Jesse pressed her side up against the wall as she looked away from the chasm, biting the inside of her cheek as she did. It was hard to tell with the lighting, but she couldn't see the bottom, and getting dizzy on stairs like these next to a terrifying gap didn't seem like a good idea.

The step, dust and cobwebs or not, was slicker than she expected, and she let out a yelp as she tried to steady herself against the stone wall, Ivor grabbing her arm while her feet slipped to the next step.

"Be careful." Jesse's smile was sheepish as Ivor hissed at her, and she kept her eyes on the step as she rubbed the side of her arm.

She opened her mouth, only to cut herself off as a moan echoed through the tunnel, the sound accompanied by large clanks and thumps and coming from behind them.

The two of them froze before turning, the noises becoming louder as they did.

How—

Her blood ran cold, a chill running up her spine.

They hadn't needed to break through the rocks. The button had still been there.

The zombies wouldn't make it through being as slow as they were, but most of the other creatures were far faster, and she supposed that a zombie that had been pressed up against the barrier when the button had been hit had a better chance of making it through alive.

Great.

Jesse turned, running again as she grabbed Ivor by his arm. Jesse's feet kept slipping, but it did have the advantage of making her descent all the quicker, her armor protecting her from most of the injuries one would expect to get from tumbling down a set of stone stairs. The bruising would not be fun, but it was far better than what the growing approaching shrieks and moans promised her.

Light came into view, but it didn't really deter anything that was chasing them, so Jesse squashed down the brief bit of relief in favor of sprinting towards it.

She ended up sliding into the room besides Ivor, not wasting any time before pushing herself off the ground and back to her feet.

Even in their rush, Jesse noticed that it was extremely large and well-lit. However, as they were still being chased, that was the most attention she could be bothered to give it for now, eyes darting everywhere in an attempt to find something, anything, they could use to help, which meant all of her attention and none of it was being spent on the room.

There was sparkling dust on the ground, trails of it branching off into more and more trails up the sides of the door and disappearing into the ceiling. Maybe she should've tried to think things out a little better, it wasn't like they hadn't been to worlds where levers meant traps and only traps before, but the oncoming horde was charging downhill and didn't seem to have any plans on stopping or slowing down.

In short, she panicked, and the lever creaked as she yanked on it.

The thick lines of redstone lit up and began to hum, and as they did, the stone bricks that were almost directly above them were pulled away by pistons, and the gravel that was apparently being held up by said bricks came tumbling down.

Both Ivor and Jesse were quick to get out of the way; the monsters weren’t so lucky.

Jesse covered her mouth as she began to cough, though her dust coated fingers weren't particularly helpful when it came to topping her coughing fit, and she swatted at the dust cloud with her other hand while her eyes were tightly shut.

There was still a light cloud of dust in the air when she opened her eyes again, Ivor dusting of his robes while she squinted at the entrance.

Rather, what had been the entrance.

She took an uneasy, shaky step towards the mound, no gap visible between the top of it and the ceiling it had descended from.

There were still moans and hisses, no doubt about it, but, judging by how muffled they were and how thick the doorway was, they weren't going to be crawling through the debris and rocks anytime soon.

This wasn't something that could be solved by one of the monsters hitting something by accident; neither she nor Ivor were close enough to the wall for a creeper to explode, and even if they had been, the creepers wouldn't be able to see them through the gravel.

Jesse’s eyes traveled upwards as her shoulders slumped and she sighed. It was nice, to be able to relax.

Partly, if nothing else.

The ceiling was made of stone bricks, some cracked and others with moss clinging to them.

The floor was bare, save for a patch of carpet, red and tattered, at the entrance, the quartz under it as worn and faded as the rest of the floor.

Dust had even managed to make its way into the spider web cracks that ran through several pillars, but there wasn’t a cobweb, big or small, to be found. Which, on one hand, was nice, especially when compared to the blankets of web above ground, but it felt odd. From what she'd seen, cave spiders and their bigger brethren wouldn't be able to make it into this place without accidentally running across the button and having a reason to try and force their way in until they pushed it by chance, but the smaller, harmless spiders shouldn't have had much trouble.

There should naturally have been at least a few left in this place when it had been sealed off for whatever reason. And, well, with as long as it looked like it had been left to rot.... it was a wonder there wasn't a gigantic spider colony down here to match the one above their heads.

It was as if the underground fortress had been heavily used before it'd been sealed off, but Jesse couldn't see any real reason for it to be sealed off in the first place; if anything, it was the safest area they'd seen yet in this world, and the button problem hardly seemed like something that couldn't be fixed instead of causing a base wide evacuation.

That was assuming, though, that they had left instead of just falling to something that got in, something that had disposed of their bodies and had probably crawled away to some corner to die when its time came.

Jesse blinked as she turned, giving a brief shudder. Her gaze quickly moved to the hall’s biggest oddity as she walked towards it, tilting her head back to look at it.

It was a door, meant for something much larger than the other doors and entrances had been built to accommodate. It stretched to the ceiling, no small feat given how much higher than them the ceiling was. The handle, gnarled and twisted with winding designs carved deep inside, was several blocks above her head, and looked like it was made of the same material as the rest of the door.

Jesse's fingers brushed against it, the material coarse and nicked. It was familiar, and not in the way she would've thought.

It didn't feel like the floor.

It wasn't simply quartz that had become chipped and faded over the years.

It was bone.

She didn't know if it had been carved from the body of a giant creature or if it was the product of various bones being ground and fused together.

Was that something done here?

She knew she'd heard of it in several other worlds, and it didn't sound any more appealing here.

It was hard to tell which possibility was less unsettling, if either of them could even be considered that.

Jesse's eyes stayed on the material, her pickaxe glowing as she swung. A yelp escaped her as she was tossed to the ground, one end of her pick becoming embedded in the ground right beside her head. The banners on the wall fluttered and swayed as a clang reverberated throughout the giant room, Ivor at her side not a moment later. Well, she thought it was a moment. It was a bit hard to tell how long the room was spinning, and by the time it had started to steady out, Ivor was on his knees, holding her upper body and tilting her head up slightly.

"...are you alright?"

Jesse moved to sit up, grimacing as she shut her eyes. Ivor pressed a hand to her chest, gently but firmly trying to push her back down. Jesse, in turn, tried to gently push him away as she opened her eyes and stood.

The door was glowing now, a thin film of shimmering light covering the bone.

"Yeah— yeah, I'm good." Jesse's hand fell from her head as she looked up, gaze trailing up the door and stopping at the top, the light from the lamps and the glow making it hard to see the carvings there. "I have a feeling there's something very interesting behind this door."

"You don't say." Sarcasm dripped off of Ivor's words as he crossed his arms. "And here I thought it was  _decoration_."

"Ha-ha." Jesse rolled her eyes, shifting her shoulders as her gaze was drawn to the bottom of his robe, the dark brown cloth stained with splotches of red. Most of it wasn't his, she knew, but most didn't mean all. "How’re you doing?"

"...fine." Ivor shifted, taking a step back as he adjusted his robe. "What matters now is getting to the other side of this barrier. It appears to be some sort of puzzle, though I can safely say I've never seen enchantments like this before."

"Well, it's not going to get itself open." Though that would've been a nice change of pace. "Let's get to work.”


	226. Distraction

Winter was an interesting season, to put it lightly. It could be nice, bringing wonderful festivities, warm food, and plenty of fun times with loved ones.

Winter could also be cruel, especially to anyone stupid or unlucky enough to be caught outside during one of its many storms.

Jesse wasn't sure which they were, but they were definitely stuck.

It wasn't the worst storm they'd seen by any means, but with how late it was getting, no one wanted to risk both fighting monsters _and_ trying to survive the storm.

Camp had already been set up, the small barricades they set up helping block the wind but not the chill or the falling snow.

Jesse adjusted her grip, the bark from the logs scratching against her chestplate.

The trees weren't too far apart, but it was harder to hold an axe when the handle stuck to her hands. It was a good thing she'd brought along some gloves, or a few of her fingers would've probably needed to be chopped off by now.

It wasn't like she needed to rush; they already had backup firewood for when the fire began to dwindle. Jesse had just figured it was better to have more instead of not enough. Collecting wood gave her something to do, and her friends wouldn't mess with her if she was busy. They were already cold and needed warming up, and there was no need for them to work even harder when she could take care of it.

Hauling their supplies through a snowstorm that had threatened to turn into a full-on blizzard had been hard enough, the snow coming up to their knees in some places. Jesse glanced up at the grey sky. With things beginning to get dark?

They were all lucky that things seemed to be calming down instead of getting worse.

The others were already worried that she'd been getting quiet, but she made it as clear as she could that it wasn't a bad thing, that they didn't have to worry.

(Not that her getting away kept them from worrying, far from it, as Petra's presence proved. Oh, she wasn't close to Jesse, but Jesse wasn't an idiot. The few sparse flashes of red weren't hard to spot in an icy wonderland like this, no matter how hard or how well she tried to hide. Normally, Petra trusted her enough to at least give her a little time alone, trusted that she could take care of herself, but with how late it was getting and how she'd been acting lately...)

Jesse shook her head.

There was nothing wrong with being quiet.

Her boots sunk soundlessly into the fluffy blanket of snow, and Jesse found herself watching the falling snow as her fingers curled into the wood.

It'd been almost a year since they'd defeated the Witherstorm.

The anniversary was quickly approaching, and she wasn't sure what they'd do when it arrived. Would they throw a party? The rest of the city would, that was for sure. Or would they just let it pass by as quietly as they could while the people around them celebrated?

She really didn't care to think about it.

Part of her didn't even care to think about the city. Their temple was protected, and, by extension, so were the people that surrounded it, with Ellegaard there and all of Olivia's many, many traps, defending the entrances, but... they should've been faster. If she'd been smarter, they'd have just gone through a Nether Portal and taken the carts home.

When they'd had to settle down for the night, they had no obsidian on them, so that idea was out.

If only she hadn't been such an—

Jesse stopped as the snow on the ground was blocked by a familiar pair of boots. She looked up, realizing that she'd almost made her way into their makeshift camp, and had been blocked right outside the frozen barricade.

Ivor didn't have his hands full of wood like she did. All he was holding was a single snowball, and his grin turned downright devilish as he looked up from it and at her.

Jesse had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to like what that grin had in store.

"Ivor." Jesse gaze continued to flicker back and forth between his face and his hands. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba— goddammit!”

The snowball slammed into her shoulder as she turned, wincing and shutting her eyes as some of it hit her cheek, parts of her hair plastered to her face by snow.

The pile of logs fell to the ground, tossed to the side as Jesse scooped up a handful of snow, pressing it between her hands for a moment before hurling it at a retreating and cackling Ivor. Hitting him square in the back, he had no choice but to retaliate, and the wood was quickly forgotten.

Their little skirmish soon grew to include Lukas and Axel, as well as Petra when she returned to camp herself shortly thereafter, with Olivia choosing to stay out of it to tend to the fire.

By the time they stopped, soaked and laughing, snow had managed to get into every bit of clothing Jesse was wearing.

She looked back up at the sky, a far darker color now, several gaps in the blanket of clouds revealing patches filled with stars, lighting up an inky night sky. The roaring fire they had going and the few torches they'd managed to get to stay upright, their lit tips peeking out from the thick snow, would keep them safe from monsters.

Petra, sitting on the ground with her back to one of the corners and sharpening her sword, also seemed like she'd be a good deterrent.

It wasn't hard to fall asleep, her head resting against Ivor's woolly robe, and she really had no idea how something that looked so thin could actually be so warm and comfy, with Axel right beside her. A she dozed off, she saw Olivia sit down beside Axel's other side, moving slowly so as not to bother an already sleeping Lukas.


	227. Punishment (Aiden/Jesse)

Aiden heard her before he felt her, knew she was there before he actually woke up.

The mattress, hard, lumpy, with springs that liked to groan at the first sign of a breeze, sunk, making a loud creak as somebody's legs brushed up against his. It wasn't a big bed to begin with, and two people who weren't tangled up with each other made for a tight fit.

There was no moonlight to speak of, the stars providing a massive map of dots that were nice to look at but did little to light up the room.

Not that he needed to see.

The list of people it could've been was short, and the shaky arms that wrapped around him made it even shorter.

Anybody who wanted to hurt him wouldn't have bothered getting into the bed, and the worst the attacks had been involved people tossing bricks at his windows and him when he was on his way to work in the mines. Nobody had broken into his home yet.

That didn't mean that nobody would, but the attacks had only started up again recently, seeing as how he'd just gotten off of parole two weeks ago. It was easier to damage his house when the captain of the guard wasn't stationed there to make sure Aiden didn't run for it in the middle of the night.

There were several people who had decided to drop in for a visit and spend the night in the city, but Ivor wouldn't visit him if he was paid to, Lukas wouldn't touch him with a twelve meter pole if his life depended on it, and while Petra might've been alright with visiting him if she needed or wanted to, she wouldn't in the middle of the night and definitely not by getting into bed with him.

And Jesse...

Well, it was probably a bad sign that he could recognize her breathing.

It wasn't the worst way to wake up. Unpredictable, to be sure, and always without warning, but it was better than sleeping alone.

Aiden mumbled a bit as he turned, eyes still shut as he wrapped his arms around her. He paused as there was a weak shove against his chest and a soft mumble that was interrupted by a softer sob, the thin blanket scratching against his skin as it shifted.

"Jesse?" Her name was croaked, his voice rough as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"Why? Why are you being… so _nice_ to me? I can’t understand. I can’t understand! " The whispers were small, hissed by a cracking voice and joined by fingers curling into his shirt. "I just can’t understand…"

"Because I love you." He hoped it was a bit of an obvious answer. There was no shortage of people who loved Jesse, and he didn't have a doubt that he was one of them. The hardest part to understand about it all was why she kept coming back. He didn't have anything to offer her, besides some half-baked poems. "And you deserve it."

"I don't." She shook her head. "I ruined your life."

It was tempting to ask "What life?", but that wasn't the answer Jesse needed. If anything, it would only make her feel worse.

"I beat you to it." He pulled her closer, brushing some hair away from her ear. "I tried to kill you, you and Lukas. I thought I did. I would've killed everybody else here if it wasn't for you."

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be stuck here. You wouldn't have snapped at Lukas, or been jealous of us. We'd all be back home." As if any of those things were her fault. They'd all been the result of Aiden being an asshole, to the point where he'd managed to ruin Gill and Maya's lives, and Jesse knew it. "Hate me. Please."

It was unbelievable. She was lying in the world's most uncomfortable bed with a guy who'd tried to kill her on multiple occasions, and he knew a far softer and larger bed had been set aside for her where she and the others were staying, a bed that was surrounded by friends she could trust, and she wanted _him_ to hate _her_.

"No."

"I need somebody to hate me, somebody that isn't a maniac." Notch knew there were plenty of those out there, tons of people with more than a few screws loose and a vendetta against Jesse.

"You're already talking to the wrong person." His ear rubbed against some of the stuffing that was hanging out of the tears in the pillow as his neck relaxed. "...I'm just thinking out loud here, but maybe it's a sign that only psychopaths hate you."

"That's only because everybody else thinks I'm a hero."

"You _are_ a hero."

"No." The bed creaked again as Jesse twisted, pulling back. "No, I'm not. Everybody would be so much better off without me, but they think I saved them."

"You did. You saved so many worlds, helped so many people." He paused, combing his fingers through her hair. "Is this about the—"

"I caused it. I killed them."

Got it in one.

Aiden sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"You didn't know." What idiot kept the key to their revenge plan, one that was years in the making, on an easy to access pedestal? Almost anybody else would've kept it in their inventory, or a hidden chest, or anywhere else.

"I should've." Her shoulders slumped as she dipped her head, resting her forehead against his chest. "I should've used it faster, should've been smarter. Shouldn't have taken it in the first place."

"You can't change it, Jesse. You'll just go nuts thinking about it like this."

Her chuckle was empty.

"Might as well."

" _Jesse_."

She went quiet.

Maybe it wasn't such a mystery when he thought about it, why she kept coming to him. Not really. She felt guilty, and an easy way to punish herself was to spend time with somebody she hated. It was cruel, but effective.

He'd never seen her cry as much as she did when she was with him.


	228. Infection

Petra's deals, which, though the number she could accept had decreased, she continued taking after becoming a part of the new Order of the Stone, had gotten her into plenty of sticky situations.

There would always be something— a surprise run in with a monster, dealing with someone who wanted what she was after and wasn't as willing to pay as her client was, or even just stuck in rotten conditions. The weather was the weather, after all, and no one was to blame for its random idiocy.

That didn't change the fact that she would've felt so much better if there was someone at fault that could be... _reasoned_ with.

While she was more careful to do a little poking around before accepting any deals, couldn't have another Wither on the loose, this one had been pretty harmless. Several eyes of ender weren't hard for Petra to get, spending a few hours in the Nether and then late at night collecting the supplies so she wouldn't have to raid the order's resources, the customer was quick to pay and didn't ask any questions, and she was feeling relatively good about her work as she made her way back home.

Maybe that was where the universe had decided that she'd gone too far and that she was pushing it a bit too much.

The weather didn't seem to know what it wanted any better than she did, and Petra was starting to regret not waiting until morning to visit her client.

Branches creaked and groaned, leaves rustling and shaking as trees swayed to and fro, Petra unable to see more than blurry shadows of them through the layer of mist that started at the mulch and dead leaves and stretched to the sky.

Her torch was no help, the orange flame shuddering and flickering in the face of the wind and the shadows that only seemed to grow larger when she pulled it out.

She didn’t make it far into the forest, half way at best, before things became interesting.

Red eyes and a low growl were her only warnings before it'd stepped out of the blanket of fog and shadows.

The wolf was big, stupidly large for something that was no more than skin and bones, sharp ribs sticking out far past thick, matted fur.

She got a much better look at it when it pounced at her, barreling into her with all the grace of a starving baby zombie and the force of a minecart going full speed and filled with bricks.

The leaves beneath them crunched as Petra's back slammed into the ground, her sword already drawn as the wolf went straight for her neck.

A single stab, her blade plunging right between its eyes, stopped it in its tracks, too close for comfort with its fangs already having punctured her skin.

There were no whines, no howls, nothing, and Petra's back hit the ground again as it went limp, still for a moment before disappearing into a cloud of smoke and dust.

She coughed as she stood, hair that was drenched with sweat sticking to her helmet and snagging as she took it off to remove her bandanna.

The plan was to cover her wound and slow the bleeding until she could get a potion, but there wasn’t any need. Carefully putting her hand to her neck, she found it wasn't even as bad as she'd thought; there was only the faintest smear of blood across her fingers when she pulled her hand away from her surprisingly dry neck.

Annoying, maybe, but hardly the worst thing she'd had to deal with thanks to a trade.

By the time she got back, there would be a scab or two. It wasn't even worth mentioning to the others.

If she did, Ivor would probably want to make sure nothing was infected, but the wolf had seemed fine, if not thin, and it was just a scratch.

How bad could it be?

* * *

Maybe tousling with the wolf had left her a little too banged up to think straight, or maybe the bite had already been affecting her. She knew better than to tempt fate like that, dammit. It was a miracle the ground hadn't opened up and swallowed her whole just for thinking it.

The next few weeks were on par with the ones she'd spent alone in a cave, withersickness draining the life out of her with every passing moment.

She could at least say this was more exciting than that, but that didn't really make anything better. When she'd been useless, she hadn't been in danger of hurting anyone.

It'd started with her temper, already admittedly not the best, getting shorter and shorter. Well, she could just blame that on the lack of adventures coming their way. She did pin it on that, as more irritation and frustration swelled up out of nowhere. What else could it be?

(Hindsight was a bitch.)

Then she'd started blacking out, waking up with blanks in her memory that spanned anywhere from a few seconds to an hour. She always came to wherever she last remembered being, but time was still moving, and the gaps became larger and more frequent as more time went on.

The worst bit was probably the hunger.

It gnawed and clawed at her every moment she was awake and every second she tried to sleep, along with an itch from the inside that only got worse the more she ignored it. Eating didn't help. She'd managed to make herself sick, having eaten far more than she should've while her stomach continued to growl. What for, she didn't know.

(Didn't want to know. Knew, but didn't want to admit, didn't dare indulge.)

 It wasn't that nobody noticed.

(Stop asking, Jesse.)

It was that she had always been very good about being stubborn and saying no even if everybody knew the answer was yes. Nothing was wrong.

Then she'd woken up one morning, wrapped up in blankets and nude with shredded clothes strewn about the floor.

Oh, and covered in dried blood that wasn't hers, that was a bit noticeable too.

She wasn't hungry, but any relief that brought was no match for the fact that she was naked and coated with blood, and she had no idea why

Learning that two people had gone missing, an alley not far from the last place they'd reportedly been seen last night splattered with blood puddles and large stains that were scattered about the walls, as well as likewise bloodied inventory items. The duo had happened to be the pair that Petra had overheard mocking Jesse a month ago and calling her a mix of slurred, clearly drunken insults and swears, two assholes she hadn't bothered with at Jesse's request. It just didn't seem like they were worth it, not after coming back from what was their first, and so far, last adventure of the season.

Searching for the person or monster that had killed them didn’t count as an adventure.

The hunger had returned after only a few hours, along with an incessant tugging at her insides and her awareness that certainly didn’t get better as the days dragged on.

Petra’d bought a potion of weakness. It didn’t seem like it was too well made, but it was available on short notice and she’d take it.  Except that she couldn’t. She’d tried to take the potion as soon as she got back to her room, and had dropped the bottle as soon as the first drop touched her tongue, too busy trying not to choke on the potion to stop the rest of it from spilling onto the carpet, leaving her just as strong as she had been before with an inky stain on her carpet.

It wasn’t like there wasn’t a master alchemist living in the same building as her, but snooping about his potions and experiments was just asking for trouble. He’d want to know why she was trying to steal a potion instead of just asking him, and with her luck, she’d snatch a potion of harming instead.

(Mixing the two potions up would be a noob mistake, but it wouldn’t be out of place with how her luck was lately.)

She couldn't exactly go to Ivor. Two people she didn’t know and wasn’t fond of was bad enough. Someone she cared about? Somebody that actually mattered to her?

Going to him would mean threatening to fix this, would make him a target.

And if he was a target—

Her internal monologue, which was becoming more panicked rambling than an attempt to figure things out, was interrupted by someone knocking at her door.

Petra looked up from the carpet, sitting on the edge of her bed with her fingers curled in her hair and digging into her scalp. She hastily kicked the empty vial, which she’d left on the ground, beneath her bed as she stood.

Her feet shuffled against the floor as she grumbled, making noises that could’ve sounded vaguely like responses if said responses were nothing more than mumbles.

She took a step back after she opened the door, if only so she wouldn’t have to break her neck trying to look up at Axel.

(Friend. Food. Both. Neither.)

“Are you alright?” He was in his gear, soot dusting most of it and smudges littering his face.

“’m fine.” Petra frowned as she shifted, holding onto the side of her arm. She couldn’t be more unconvincing if she was on fire with a stack of arrows sticking out of her. Her next attempt at a smile was better, at least, but it wasn’t like it could be worse. “Why do you ask?”

“You didn’t come to dinner. Or lunch.” He hesitated. “And… you’ve been acting really… aggressive, lately.”

Dinner? That late already?

Knowing the rest of the team, she was lucky it was only Axel who was checking up on her.

"Been a bit of a busy week." Petra shifted, upper lip curling slightly before her mouth settled in a firm line. She was exposed, something she hadn’t felt around any of her friends in a long time, and it was messing things up even more. It was a shame she couldn’t just make a mad dash for her armor stand without it raising more questions.

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced away, the door still half open behind him. "Look, if there's anything I can do—"

(Had to stop him. He'd figure it out; know something was wrong with her. She couldn't even try to distract him like this. Had to hurt him.)

Petra’s jaw clenched as her fingers curled into fists.

"Get out." The words were growled as she took another step back, shoulders hunching and her teeth bared.

“What?” Even with her odd behavior, Axel hadn’t moved, looking more confused than angry, no weapons pulled out, and so many explosives on him that he wouldn’t be able to set off until it was too late.

(Not hurt. Had to protect. Couldn't protect if she was caught. He would find out and she'd be trapped. He needed to stop her to be safe. Had to keep him safe.)

She shook her head, shutting her eyes as she gripped her head again. There was a throbbing in her skull and something digging at her skin from the inside.

"Get Ivor." Another attempted step back became a failed stumble, her bare toes curling into the carpet.

She was weak, useless, pathetic, and she’d practically begged. She never begged.

"Petra—" He took a step forward, his long legs easily making up the distance her pathetic attempted retreat had gained her.

(Food danger threat kill now kill fast _kill_.)

"Now!" It was nothing short of a roar, and whatever ground she’d gained trying to stay in control was lost, pain shooting up her spine as bones began to crack and stretch.

And everything went black.


	229. Ceremony

Ivor knew a surprising amount of people for someone who'd just about isolated himself from the world for years on purpose.

This came in handy more often than not, and while Jesse found herself grateful for it on a regular basis, she couldn't recall being as thankful as she was now. One of these people had invited both her and Ivor to a ceremony.

It wasn't just any ceremony; it was a witch ceremony.

In most cases, the words "witch ceremony" were usually the start of some cautionary story that ended with a sacrifice or eternal torture at the hands of a witch, and was supposed to warn kids not to mess with witches if they wanted to stay alive.

It didn't hurt that almost every one of these stories was at least based on something that'd actually happened.

However, as it turned out, there were neutral witches, rare though they might've been, and Ivor happened to know a few. Maybe it should've surprised Jesse, but she'd learned to just roll with Ivor's oddities. The fact that there were actually friendly witches out there interested her more.

Their testificate was different from any she'd heard before, a strange dialect that made it a bit harder to understand, but no less interesting. Jesse would never have guessed how useful Ivor's lessons would've been. She couldn't imagine trying to keep up if all she knew was broken and basic testificate. Her replies still weren't fluid enough for her liking, but being able to understand what she heard, albeit with a bit of trouble, was more important.

They'd managed to get themselves a spot that was at a distance, on the edge of a large, empty clearing, save for one villager at the center of it.

Also surrounding the clearing were more witches than Jesse'd ever seen in the same place before, and it was a good thing they were friendly. Otherwise, she and Ivor would've been about a million kinds of dead, with nothing but a pile of ash left of their inventories.

As it was, the witches weren't going to kill them, but the wait seemed determined to do it.

For the whole process to work, it had to occur at midnight— not a minute sooner, not a minute later.

Normally, it was supposed to be a pretty quick and nasty thing, a lightning bolt hitting whoever was unlucky enough and pretty much ripping whatever magic they had to the surface, leaving the poor person horribly unhinged.

Because apparently getting struck by lightning wasn't bad enough.

Making somebody into a witch on purpose? It pretty much required that the person in question really wanted to, because a witch couldn't get too close to the lightning if they didn't want to be killed by their own magic and it was still supposed to hurt whoever the witch-to-be was a lot.

The ritual required stormy weather that would be enhanced by the gathered witches' magic, and Jesse's toes curled as she hunched her shoulders and dug the heels of her boots in, leaning forward as another gust of wind blew through the clearing, crisp golden leaves swirling about in the air while thick vines and branches made relatively short but violent trips to the ground.

With every second, it became harder and harder to stand still, for a variety of reasons.

Jesse's comments had long since started to run together, and she was more murmuring nonstop than anything, and she wasn't sure if she was shaking because of the magic, which crackled in the air and seemed to make everything rumble and shake a bit, or the wind, trees bending and swaying as they creaked and groaned, or just because she was excited.

"Jesse." Her name was hissed, Jesse smiling as she turned to look at Ivor. His knuckles were white as his fingers dug into the worn leather of an old journal he'd been determined to bring along, terrible writing conditions be hanged.

What?" She tilted her head a bit to the side as she turned to him, brushing a bit of wayward hair behind her ear. It was a useless effort, the wind blowing it about before her fingers even left it. "It's cold, it's dark, and it's exciting as hell! You can't expect me to _not_ get a little excited."

"Be that as it may—" Jesse ducked as Ivor did, a wayward branch barely missing both of their heads. "—this is still a formal and sacred ceremony, and we happen to be outsiders. We're lucky enough that we're allowed to be this close."

"Alright, alright." Jesse grinned as she rolled her eyes, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Killjoy."

Ivor only snorted in response, turning his head to look back up at the sky and the blood red moon in the middle of it.

Finally, _finally_ , the witches raised their hands, the dark, rumbling clouds above growing darker and noisier, the small flashes that came from normal lightning that was occurring elsewhere ceasing for a moment.

There was a white hot flash and the sound of an entire stack of TNT going off at once, and her back hit the dirt. It felt like her insides were numb and someone had just tried to rip that out, body shaking as a new, foreign blast energy shot through her.

It was pain. It was healing. It was thrilling. It was scary. It was everything and nothing all at once.

It was wonderful.

Jesse didn't cover her ears as the lightning struck, too busy staring to think, too busy seeing nothing, and she sorely regretted it a moment later, rubbing an aching ear as she began to blink rapidly. Her vision was blurry at first, already indistinct shadows dim and hazy, shapes growing sharper with every second as her brain caught up.

She was grinning so wide that her face hurt —or maybe that was just the effects of the magic— and she barely managed to fight back an excited cheer as she shot back up to her feet, not looking down as she extended a hand towards Ivor, who accepted it with a grumble a moment later.


	230. Feed

Lukas was used to heading to bed when Jesse was just starting to wake up, but it'd been a while since he'd seen him this lethargic so late after sundown. There were ten minutes left until midnight, and he hadn't moved since Lukas had last seen him an hour ago.

Jesse's skin, already normally pale, was almost as white as the quartz he was leaning against, his back to the wall with his knees drawn to his chest.

So Lukas had to open his big, fat mouth.

"Jesse?" He knew what was coming. It couldn't have been anything else. But he knew Axel had gone through the kitchen a while ago, right after Jesse had woken up. Jesse should've been fine by now.

His shoulders were slumped as he looked up at Lukas, mouth slightly open and white, sharp, noticeably not bloodied, fangs brushing against his lower lip.

"I’ve been so… thirsty…" He scooted closer towards Lukas, the action more for show than to actually gain him any distance, a floorboard creaking underneath him while he looked from Lukas's face to his neck. "Can I? Please?"

A single word shouldn't have been able to sound so pathetic.

All the same, it was a pointless question.

Lukas sighed before he sat down next to Jesse, one leg shaking as he tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to Jesse, and shut his eyes.

This wasn't the first time they'd done this, though Lukas had thought, hoped, that it would be easier this time. After all, the first time had been while they were trying to stop the Witherstorm, when they'd been separated from the others and Jesse hadn't had any choice and the initial horror had been pounding through Lukas's systems.

It wasn't. Sharp teeth plunging into his skin while Jesse's nails dug into his shoulders still hurt like hell. His head felt stuffed up and began to ache, the dim surroundings swimming as Lukas shivered. He was overheating and freezing at the same time, the urge to curl up into a ball sudden and unrelenting. It was like being poisoned.

He had no idea how Axel and Olivia could handle this regularly.

Well, he did, but that wasn't the point.

The thing with Jesse was that when he took a bite out of somebody, it didn't mean they were going to turn into a vampire. As far as they could tell, that was just a myth. What it meant was that they were going to feel awful, be weak for a while, and...

Mind-control wasn't the right word, and hypnosis didn't cover it either, but it made them more... susceptible to what Jesse wanted.

It was worst at first, but some of it was permanent.

Lukas didn't know if it was like this for all vampires or just Jesse, but Jesse couldn't exactly offer much information on that. According to him, he'd never met another one.

Right now, he would've done anything Jesse asked, even if it was flat out nuts, but later down the line, he'd still be more willing to listen to and protect Jesse than he was before he'd ever become a snack.

It'd been an... interesting thing to learn. It certainly made the tension between them during the adventure that much worse.

Maybe it was a sign that he was already too far gone that it didn't bother him. Jesse's fangs were in his neck, his blood was being sucked out of him like Jesse's life depended on it —and, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him, it did— and he couldn't be brought to think anything against him for it.

He wanted to think it was because they were friends, not that they were friends because Jesse had decided to use him as an on and off meal.

How much of it was really Jesse's actual personality and how much of it was mind control, he didn't know.

He'd always been friendly with Jesse, even when he only saw him every now and then. Lukas doubted that Jesse's 'influence' extended as far as just being around someone, if only because Aiden had had no problem hating Jesse from the start.

Jesse was nice, but it wasn't hard for the others to make fun of him.

Really, Jesse looked somewhere between constantly sick and ready months in advance for Halloween. He was pasty, and always looked about as thin a person could get while still eating, frame lanky and nearly skeletal. He showed up hours late, only getting back to his building team at the very end, when the judges were almost ready and the sun had gone down. At the time, Lukas thought it was because Jesse helped designed the build and get the materials, and was either too lazy to arrive on time or lived far enough away that it took him a while to get to Endercon— the latter didn't make much sense, considering that Jesse was late every single year, but why else would Olivia and Axel let him take credit for the builds they made? They didn't seem the type to be pushovers.

He was partly correct.

Lukas didn't think anybody had ever noticed his fangs before, if only because Jesse didn't talk often and had a habit of covering his mouth when he smiled or laughed.

Lukas wrapped an arm, heavy and almost limp, around Jesse, who had started to tremble.

Wanting to keep him close, wanting to protect him while he was vulnerable like this —because obviously he was vulnerable while he was busy feasting off of Lukas, a different, almost nonexistent voice muttered— was because they were friends.

You were supposed to do anything for your friends.

Jesse wasn't perfect, Lukas would never know if Jesse was as innocent and nice as he acted or if Lukas was that gullible and easy to trick, and he didn't care.

Well, he cared, but there wasn't much he could do. Jesse was the hero of a countless number of worlds; if all he wanted was a drink, who was Lukas to say no?

It wasn't like he could anyway.


	231. Demons

Sunlight filtered through the windows into the workshop, glinting off of the turning gears and joining the glow of shimmering redstone. Whistling wind was accompanied by the singing of birds and a rainbow of colors splashing across the sky as the sun crept its way over the horizon. By all means, it should've been a peaceful morning.

It was not.

The chirps and groans of the machinery around them did nothing to cover the yelling, their voices drowning out any other noise.

It was a tried and true situation, one that she could recite in her sleep. It wasn't like it was ever any different.

Ellegaard couldn't even remember what they were arguing about.

"Maybe if you actually listened to me for once—" She was cut off by a rough laugh, empty and devoid of anything but bite. Magnus's teeth were bared as his upper lip curled.

“You never shut up! You were always right, always knew _so_ much better. All I _could_ do was listen to you! Did you ever stop to ask how I felt? The instant I said something you didn't agree with, you tuned me out. You never wanted to hear what I had to say!" The room distorted as he took another step towards her, the ground sinking as the walls twisted and pulled, quartz turning an obsidian color before it shimmered, all other sounds cutting out as he continued. "Do you care about anything? Do you love anyone? Does anyone love you?”

No, no she could hear something.

Screams.

There were screams, haunting and echoing, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Most of it was gibberish, running together or drowned out by other screams, but there was also shrieking, roars of pure pain and fear.

"I—" Ellegaard stumbled as she took a step back, fingers wrapping around a mangled iron pipe as she struggled to stay upright.

"'course not. You've always been good at shutting people out. You use them, and toss 'em when you're done. It's no wonder nobody gives half a damn about you; you don't care about anybody but yourself." There was another harsh bit of laughter, mocking and hollow. "You scare your little sheep of a helper more than you do guide her, and nobody else can stand you. Your own city can barely put up with you now!"

His voice was louder than it should've been able to be, as if it was coming from a noise block that was right above her.

"But—"

"Shut up!"

He punched her, his fist slamming into her nose, blood on his knuckles as he pulled his hand back and tried to strike again.

Their fights rarely ever became physical, and never to the point of drawing blood. Any injuries were always accidental, usually caused by a mob of some sort when the two bickered outside during the night, and tended to bring their arguing to a grinding halt.

Not this time.

His eyes were nothing but pinpricks of red light, his sockets an inky black that seemed to be spreading across his skin in the form of black swirls, his armor vanishing in favor of a more comfortable but just as familiar outfit, his teeth becoming sharper and longer as he leaned into her.

She could feel someone tugging, hands latching onto her shoulders. Fingers dug into her skin as she was yanked backwards, her feet remaining rooted to the swaying floor all the same. It felt like tiny blades were slashing at her, slicing her skin. There was a voice, someone calling to her, but she couldn't hear them over the screams.

Something about someone's fault?

Probably hers. It always was.

It was such a shame too. She recognized the voice, but she didn't know why.

It felt like she was spinning; everything in front of her was a smear of colors and shapes, bending and warping. All the sounds were running together, trying to drown each other out.

Ellegaard reached out, almost blindly, latching onto the first thing she could grab— in this case, the end of his mask.

She shut her eyes, opening them a moment later to find she's lost whatever grip she'd had. His nails were digging into her shoulders, hands lifting her off of the glinting mass that couldn't even pass as the ground anymore.

"It should've been you." Smoke poured out of his mouth, thick plumes curling as they rose through the air, while he hissed.

And then he lunged, jagged fangs aiming for her neck.

* * *

Ellegaard's eyes snapped open as she lurched upright.

It took a moment for her breathing, quick and shallow as she panted, to slow to a normal speed as she glanced around the room, gaze jumping from wall to wall.

Her mattress squeaked as she shifted, her blankets on the ground beside the bed in a tangled heap.

She looked down at herself, bringing a hand to her aching face, her fingers bloodied as she pulled it away. Red scratches, deep and stinging, littered her arms. The injuries had to have been courtesy of her own nails, flecks of blood underneath them, her bleeding nose the result of a wild punch she must have thrown in her sleep. She'd never been a particularly violent sleeper before, but what else could it have been?

In her sleep. That was all it'd been. A rough night, maybe, but just a meaningless little night. Nothing a little work couldn't try and take her mind off of.

Her shoulders slumped as she gave a weak chuckle.

Even in her dreams, they couldn't get along.

It was the worst nightmare she'd had in a while, but it was over. If they continued, she'd simply have to pester Ivor for a potion that could bring her some dreamless sleep. Not ideal, but a solution all the same.

Shaky fingers reached up to brush her hair back, only for Ellegaard to pause as she realized she was already holding something. Her stomach sank as she lowered her hand, already strained smile slipping.

It was a black scrap of cloth, wet with blood.


	232. Cozy (Petra/Axel)

Getting snowed in might've been the best thing that could've happened to Petra. She'd been banking on it, and the weather, unrelenting snow that came down in heavy layer after heavy layer alongside blustery wind that made the bare husks of trees sway, hadn't failed to deliver.

She wasn't antisocial, no matter what anyone else had to say on the matter, but she needed space as much as the next person.

Jesse kept getting up before the sun even thought about it, and spent the time until there was actually any sunlight by making boxes upon boxes of holiday trinkets and opening up the ones that had been bought at the market, which was nice and all, but it seemed like the order had their hands full with setting up decorations when they weren't training or taking care of supplies.

Having managed to get back home a little less than a month ago, it was more than a bit suffocating.

They'd needed to stick as close as they could together while travelling the portals, to keep each other out of trouble as well as make sure they stayed alive, and while it was necessary, it got tiring pretty fast. Now that they were back in their world, they didn't have to fight near as much for their lives, but then there'd been trying to survive the public. It'd been far too long since she'd been alone.

Petra shifted as the blanket did, the couch creaking and Axel mumbling what sounded more like a string of sounds than any actual words as his grip around her tightened for a moment.

Er, mostly alone.

Besides, there were some things that Petra knew wouldn't go uninterrupted if they happened in her room, with her luck. Timing was nobody's strong suit, and the more hilariously bad the outcome could be, the more likely it would end up that way. No, it was better to leave altogether and let winter work its magic.

It wasn't that Petra didn't like living in the temple, it was the stablest and safest home she'd had in years, but having a place of her own was too good to give up.

Her other shelter wasn't a shack by any means, but calling it a home was a stretch. The howling wind was muffled as it continued to beat against the stone walls, the whistling that came from under the jagged bottom of the door, which also made its fair bit of noise as it rattled about, small but almost constant. Most people would've gone to an inn if they were desperate enough to leave their homes in the first place, with weather like this.

Petra's priorities were a bit different.

For one thing, she'd wanted to leave, and an inn sounded even worse. In the past, she'd dealt with people only as much as her deals had required, and she got paid for it. Even if her job was technically saving them now, she mostly stuck with her team and helped slice through monsters. She didn't think that made her antisocial— she just wasn't fond of people.

Well, no, that wasn't entirely true, Petra reminded herself as she nuzzled the hoodie she was lying on.

She was good with certain people. The list of said people wasn't very long, but it didn't have to be.

It was a darkened window that she glanced at, her eyes shutting almost as quickly as it had opened.

The snow had been falling since last night, a thick blanket coating the outside and blocking out any of the already dim light they could've gotten. The fire in the fireplace had gone quiet, crackles and pops small as the embers glowed, and Petra found herself drifting somewhere between awake and asleep. She'd fallen asleep at least once before, but she had no idea how long it had lasted, and a foggy mind didn't help clear things up.

The best part was that she couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't have to. There wasn't any itch to get up and run, to move or do something before she died of boredom.

After their nonstop string of adventures and an almost constant lack of being alone, being able to rest was a treat.

It wasn't like either of them could feel guilty about it. They had lives, same as anybody else. Even in the order, if there wasn't some adventure, it was rare when someone wasn't working on their own little project or out taking care of their own issues.

There hadn't been anything planned, and they couldn't exactly go looking for adventures in weather like this. If they really needed muscle, Petra was pretty sure that Em didn't have anywhere else in their world to live _but_ the temple, and she could lift Axel without a problem. It turned out that years of mining and fighting nonstop had a way of making somebody unholy levels of strong.

Petra stiffened, one of her hands moving only to freeze by Axel's side as she realized that a dagger wasn't needed.

Alright, so maybe good was pushing it. She was better with certain people than she was with most, but there were some things she still needed to work on.

She turned her head as she lifted it, her chin on his chest as she opened her eyes. He didn't pause, finger lightly tracing her cheek.

"Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?" Her voice was quiet, rough to her own ears and a bit crackly before she cleared her throat, but his smile got bigger all the same.

"Nah." His voice was somewhere between groggy and hoarse, his teeth showing as he continued. "No fun in that."

She nudged him a bit with her elbow, giving a small huff as she smiled back. The blanket was pulled past her shoulders by his other hand, the end resting on her head as he wrapped his arm around her again.

"You dork."

There weren't many better ways to wake up.


	233. Hell

There's no arguing that they've been through plenty of rotten worlds.

They've all been knocked out before, taken hostage by some group or maniac or other, and it's only customary that every world tries to kill at least one of them. However, despite there being no lack of competition, the one made of fire and all things burning has to take the cake.

(Though the trick worlds, the ones that have portals that lead to other worlds, sometimes dropping them into the thick of things before any of them have a chance to breathe, that all end up going back to the portal hall anyway, are a close second.)

It's not just the fact that the ground makes their bare skin burn and sting, though. It's not even really because of the fact that water dissolves as soon as it's exposed to the thick cloud of smoke and ash that's supposed to count as air, or that they've had their usual scare, with Jesse's burns being treated with Ivor's last healing potion.

It's because they've finally reached the portal, and they can't even get the chance to activate it.

The universe has been taking every possible chance to laugh at them. They survive another trip into another portal, only to return to the same hall. There are hundreds and hundreds of portals, and after weeks and weeks of trying, they're no better off than they were at the start. Clearly, that's not funny enough, so having them bounce off of thin air, off of some invisible barrier, must be the next best thing.

Petra's been hating a lot of things lately, but she really hates the universe. There's no doubt that the feeling's mutual.

So maybe it's no surprise that she's half expecting the snarl that substitutes an actual voice, closer to the sound of gravel being ground against stone and bedrock than words, that greets them as soon as they get to their feet.

"You cannot leave." Garbled or not, the voice cuts through the bubbling and hissing of the nearby lava ocean, Petra's fingers curling around the hilt of her sword and her free hand's knuckles turning white. It's as if whoever's talking to them is right below their feet, but that could easily be a note block placed there. She's learned from dealing with Cassie— they all have, if only because they need to survive. It wasn't that hard for her to distort her voice either; whoever's talking to them now probably did the same thing.

It'd be a bit depressing, how easy they think they can scare somebody off by having a voice that's more growl than vocals, but then Petra thinks about how that used to be enough to make them all jolt, at least a bit, when now they tense because they know it means a fight and a headache. That makes it less depressing and far more infuriating.

"Who's there?" The four of them are back to back, Jesse's gaze darting around them. Her voice isn't as clear, but it's pretty good for someone who just had the wind knocked out of them. The reply she gets is as loud and as dull as the first words they heard.

"You cannot escape hell's portal."

"Hell's portal?" Lukas is behind Petra, and she can't see him. His voice is as steady as Jesse's, even as the back of his boot nudges Petra's. "What's hell's portal?"

"This." The word is sharp and short, the pause that follows lasting for half a moment. "This realm is the portal to hell, a mere breath away from eternal suffering and torture, and I am its guardian. Now that you have entered, escape is not an option."

And this is when Petra snaps.

She's not even entirely sure herself why she does it.

Maybe it's because she'll be damned if they came all this way for nothing, surviving creatures made of magma and rivers of flowing lava only to be told they can't use the exit that's only a few blocks away.

Maybe it's because it'd be nice if they didn't have to trip their way through another monologue, another dramatic speech made of air and lies.

Maybe it's because she's lost track of how long they've been jumping from portal to portal and she's sick and tired of running. For once, it'd be nice to meet something like this head on. They've had more than enough riddles from people who think they're more clever than they actually are.

Whatever the reason, she does yell at the ground, getting several sharp looks from the others, and a brief sense of relief that comes with shouting at the ground with all the fury she can muster— which is, as it turns out, a lot.

"If this is the portal to Hell, why don't you come up out of that ground and get us!?"

Fingers curl around her upper arms and yank her back as the gravel and netherrack split apart, the gravel disappearing into the widening gap that's closer to the portal than it is them.

The creature that crawls out of the ground is three times taller than her, fiery tentacles hitting the netherrack and thrashing about as its multiple eyes, light orange with no pupils, stare at them.

It's with a mighty roar, a sound that makes the ground rumble and her bones shake, that it leaps, the wall that stops them not hindering it in the slightest and bits of gravel flying as it lands little over a meter away from them, heaving breathing that twists its way through jagged yellow fangs hot and thick as the smell of sulfur fills her nose, dark claws digging into the shifting gravel. Bright green liquid drips from its mouth and off its fangs, the grit it hits sizzling and dissolving as it does.

That's about all it takes for the four of them to come to an unspoken agreement to turn and scatter. Sick of running or not, it's better than being torn to shreds by an eldritch whatnot.

As they split up, she manages to catch a glimpse of the glare Ivor’s giving her.

They're definitely having a talk about tempting fate later.

After they escape and she bashes her head against a wall, that is, because _dammit_ , it wouldn't kill anybody to actually give them a break.


	234. Train

Jesse rubbed the back of her neck as she looked up, swiping away the thin layer of sweat, using her other hand to shield her eyes. Her clothes stuck to her skin under her armor, the sky a bright blue and empty save for the sun.

Her boots were pulled at with each step by the thick sludge that was the mud, and Jesse nearly stumbled as she broke into a run.

She regained her balance in time to duck, the piston missing her head as it activated, gears squeaking as it retracted. She turned, snowballs hurled by several dispensers only just missing her back as they hit several of the posts, flecks of snow on her armor and the balls of slush sinking down the wood. A hand brushed her hair back as she jumped, lunging over the row of pistons as they sprang to life, lifting up a row of dirt.

Her boots made a dull clunk as she landed, knocking together and sinking into the ground, Jesse pausing for a moment before she swung.

Her fist hit the front of the dummy, her knuckles slamming into the cloth and sinking into wool cushioning, and any energy Jesse had drained out of her body and into the ground as it didn't move.

Well, it wobbled. A bit. That had to count for something.

There was a click as Em flipped the lever, and Jesse grinned at her, mouth feeling stretched and stiff while she shrunk slightly.

"So... how was that?" Em glanced at the dummy again before looking back to her, shrugging as she leaned against the post, teeth showing through her grin.

“Not much of a punch, but it’d give a door a mean knock.” Jesse's smile fell, the edge of her chestplate clanking against her leggings as her shoulders slumped. Em winced before she took a step towards Jesse, patting her on the shoulder. "Sorry Jesse. You're the one who wanted to work on fighting hand-to-hand."

"And I still do." Jesse straightened up, shoulders squaring.

What Jesse didn't want was for Em to go easy on her. She also didn't want to be pounded to death, though. The little obstacle course they had set up, Olivia building the machines while Em and Jesse carried and gathered the parts she needed, was the next best thing, meant to tire her out and catch her off guard since she likely wouldn't be expecting it when she was in an actual fight, and after she made some progress, then she could try going up against Em.

A few days ago, when the weather had been worse, Jesse had tried practicing with Em in the training room.

Any and all of those plans were tossed out the window and thoroughly stomped on when punching Em had made Jesse's fist crumple and cry out in pain, meaning that Jesse's dignity was also hurled into the mud and crushed to bits. To be fair, it would probably hurt for most people, because Em was nothing but muscle wrapped in and tied together with more muscle. She was solid the whole way through, and punching her was like hitting bedrock.

Em was able to snap mobs in half with her bare hands.

Jesse was not. She could knock a zombie back or kick a skeleton off its feet if she was unarmed, but that wasn't much.

Gabriel had helped her train with a sword, and while a good chunk of Jesse's skill were due to experience and a lot of it, she wouldn't deny that he'd been a huge help. He'd left after he was satisfied with her sword fighting, and before they could tackle any other types of combat.

(Not that Jesse could blame him. For all the praise that was piled onto her and the others after every adventure, Gabriel continued to get flack for the Enderdragon lie. He didn't have a city of his own to take care of, and, while it had looked like he was going to stick around the temple and help them the way Ivor did, he ultimately chose to go on an aimless trip. No one knew where he was or when he'd be back, and with all the people who hated him, maybe that was a good thing.)

"I... just have to try again. What did I do wrong?"

Jesse wasn't useless without a weapon, but she wasn't anything impressive. The sooner she could take care of that the better, which meant she'd need some help, and Jesse couldn't think of a person better for the job than Em.

Em was good with pretty much every tool imaginable, from a sword to shears. Just thinking about what she'd been able to do the other day with a shovel made Jesse's spine ache.

"You're tense. Rigid. Like it's gonna chop your head off. Doesn't matter who or what you're fighting with, you have to be more relaxed than that. Bend your knees." Jesse turned her head to keep her eyes on Em as she began to walk around Jesse, pace steady and her steps not slowed by the muck. "You're not using your whole body when you punch, either; you're just using your arm. It's still got some power behind it, but you can do a lot more damage if you rotate your body and get the rest of your weight behind the punch. Got it?"

Em leaned against the post again with her shoulder.

"Yeah, I think so." Somehow, Jesse had the feeling it wasn't going to be as simple as it sounded, but that was why she was practicing.

"That's the spirit." Em slapped her on the back, grinning. "Alright, let's give it another shot."

"Right." Jesse began to trudge back to where she'd started, her back torn somewhere between breaking into brittle pieces and twisting into a mangled knot.

"Hey, Jesse?" She looked over her shoulder as Em held up a hand, lifting and slightly curling her middle and index fingers while keeping the other three pressed to her palm. "Focus on hitting first with these two knuckles. See if that works for you."

"Got it." Jesse smiled as she nodded, leaning forward and breaking into a sprint as soon as Em flipped the lever.


	235. Salt (Maya/Jesse)

The wind tousled Maya's hair, yanking at tangles and the chill it brought slipped through her clothes and sunk into her skin. She paused for a moment, the hand pressing against her back giving her a firm shove, the lever that was plastered to the wall making a small sound as it was flipped. Fingers dug into her side, as well as they could, and pulled, making her turn. Her shackles made a noise similar to the lever’s as the guard used one of the many keys that hung from the ring attached to his belt.

Maya rubbed her wrist, a band of skin red where the metal had dug into her, as she turned and walked through the doorway, tensing as the iron door creaked and slammed shut behind her.

She scowled over her shoulder before she faced forward again, lips twisting into a sneer.

Of course. She hadn't any good days in a while, but some days were more bearable than others. This was not going to be one of those days and she'd known it the moment she was dragged out of her cell, the world still dark and not a hint of sunlight on the horizon. The guard hadn't told her much of anything, but he didn't have to. Who else would've wanted to see her?

(Not Lukas, unless he was getting around to enacting that plan involving the lava pit, that was for sure.)

"Maya."

The shackles were relatively new, added after things settled down and a basic city had been constructed. She wasn't allowed to have her hands free for eating or drinking. Washing was more of a rare luxury for the guards' sake, so they wouldn't have to be more disgusted with her than they already were. Only for mining, and with near constant supervision.

The guards trusted her with Jesse. After all, it wasn't like a starving prisoner could hurt one of their mighty heroes. Maya may have been one of the world's most dangerous criminals, but it was a pretty easy title when the world's known population fit in one city, and even then, Jesse could handle her.

"What do you want?"

Smoke curled from the burning torches, rising towards the ceiling while the light painted the walls orange, glinting off of Jesse's armor. The building, if it could be called that, seemed to have a single room, and was almost entirely bare, nearly a glorified cell.

Her curls were ruffled, several of her bangs falling into her eyes as soon as she brushed them back, and the edges of Maya's mouth twitched up into a brief smirk. The wind was just as rough on soft and clean hair as it was on uneven and grimy hair, and Jesse didn't put obscene amounts of gel in her hair like Lukas did.

It was hard to tell, if she was doing as well as Maya first thought. Jesse was good at that, hiding any issues of her own. She seemed to have this odd idea in her head that overworking herself, checking up on people who didn't need it and working on a project long after everyone else had decided to take a break, came before things like eating or sleeping. It was a mystery how someone so smart could be so dumb. Maya was willing to bet, with the dark skin that sagged under her eyes and the way her chestplate seemed to shift and slip with every little movement, that she was doing it again.

Then Maya thought about how she could count Aiden's ribs from a distance, how Gill's jutted out, pushing against his shirt. They knew as well as Maya did what it felt like to have hunger gnawing at them until their stomachs may as well have been devouring themselves. They didn't get a choice.

"Why?" Maya's head snapped up at the question.

If Jesse was going to starve herself, that was her problem, not Maya's.

She turned her head away from Jesse, sneering as she glanced back at her.

"I get that everybody else may be bending over backwards to their noble hero's bland and vague questions, but you're gonna have to be a bit more specific."

"Why didn't you talk to me? You just... disappeared."

The real question was why she'd gotten involved in the first place.

Alright, so they'd, at Lukas's request, helped distract the Witherstorm, and Jesse’s group had kept him alive and out of the monster, something Maya had to admit she, Aiden, and Gill probably couldn't have managed with how quickly they were sucked up.

It hadn't seemed like much of a stretch to try and put stupid rivalries behind them when they were working together on construction.

When you stopped trying to hate someone, it was a lot easier to notice all their good points. She'd already known about some of them, would have had to be blind not to, but there was a difference between falling in love with someone and crashing into it full-force.

Jesse had a nice laugh, and a good sense of humor to boot. She tended to like Maya's jokes when they weren't needlessly mean or targeted at her friends, which Maya could respect. She was too good at the puppy dog eyes, and was adorable to an infuriating degree, sweet enough to be sickening at times.

Maya knew what the rest of Jesse's friends thought about her, of course. As soon as they became famous, she started getting... 'involved' with their leader. She wasn't sure there were names for some of the dirty looks she got.

And Jesse had brought it up, once, when the two of them were tangled up with each other and the various blankets on her bed.

She was sweet, and she was cute, but damn if she didn't know how to ruin a good mood.

It had never been about Jesse's fame.

Jesse held her close, told her she mattered and that she was somebody. Jesse needed someone to hold her and tell her that things were okay, that it wasn't her fault and that the nightmares were just that.

If things had gone differently, they'd probably be in a similar position right now.

Maybe not, given that Jesse and the others would likely still have gone against Gill and Aiden, and that would require picking sides.

It was sheer luck that Maya'd run into the two of them when she did, given that seeing either of them, never mind talking to them, was becoming harder and harder. Gill was better about handling it, but Aiden was hurting. Lukas had left them in the dust, and they thought she was going to do the same, what with her trips to the temple getting longer and longer.

(She saw how happy Lukas was, when they were working together to rebuild the cities and homes that had been destroyed. Aiden was almost violent, telling her and Gill to shut up or butt out as soon as he asked for their opinions. She had no idea where he'd gotten the gear, enchanted armor and weapons beyond the resources the three of them had put together, and there was no point in asking. Gill didn't know, and Aiden's temper only flared if he was asked. Lukas was selfish. She'd been selfish.)

They needed her.

Jesse didn't.

If she waited and talked to Jesse about it, she wouldn't have gone through with it. She couldn't figure out how to write a note that explained it well enough, because if Jesse was going to get an explanation the least she deserved was a good one, either. Leaving without saying anything was simpler.

Not easier.

"Yeah. So? What, you wanted me to check in with you every time I thought about leaving your sight?"

"You know what I mean! A little heads up would've been nice. You could've told me you were breaking up with me before you tried to kill me." Maya had never planned on attacking Jesse. She'd thought they were going to leave, try to make a name for themselves somewhere else. Aiden had different ideas in mind; he wanted revenge. The new order was famous, and had taken Lukas away. Why couldn't they challenge them, with their new equipment? It was only fair. "Was it something I said? Did I do something wrong?"

It was almost enough to make Maya laugh. Because, if anything, it had always been the opposite. Jesse could be a real dork, but even then she was perfect, in her own way. Things might not have gone how she planned them to sometimes, but she was good at getting back on her feet and rolling with whatever happened anyway.

She was too good.

"It was a bad idea from the start. It... was fun for a while, but we shouldn't have tried." Maya shrugged. "It was stupid to think it was going to work out."

"So you just left?"

'Just left'. Hah. Right.

She'd thought it over far longer than she should've, the fact that she hadn't worn a trail into the floor by pacing surprising enough in its own right.

"It's not like we were really together or anything. Not officially." It was a lousy excuse, desperate and far too defensive to her own ears.

"So..." Jesse swallowed, and dammit, the word had no right to sound choked. “So none of it mattered to you?"

"Like it did to you." Maya rolled her eyes.

"My roommate had to go into my room and throw the sheets away because I haven’t been able to sleep in that bed since you left.”

Maya's brow furrowed.

"Roommate?" Jesse might've had a close team, but they all had separate rooms. "Since when have you had a roommate?"

"Lukas." Maya raised an eyebrow as Jesse paused. "He's... been staying in my room."

Well, that changed things, didn't it?

"You mean he's your boyfriend." Jesse winced, rubbing the side of her arm before she shook her head.

"It's not like that." Because that defense always worked, right? It wasn't a typical, pathetic last line of defense or anything. "Maya..."

And she hated her for that, because it was tempting enough that she could almost consider it. Crumbling sounded so easy, especially if it meant being able to fix what she broke, being able to be forgiven.

But Gill and Aiden would still be stuck in their cells, paying for something she was just as guilty of starting. She didn't know if they'd ever get out, ever be released, or if they'd just have to make a break for it one of the times they were walking between the cells and the mine, but if they got out, it'd be together.

"Do you even hear yourself? Don't give me this bullshit." Maya stepped closer to Jesse, snarling. For a second, she couldn't hear the wind outside. "You just came here to try and guilt me, try and make yourself feel better. You've already moved on."

Even if she didn't know it. Maya reminded herself this was what she wanted. Jesse didn't really need her, never had, and Lukas could give her everything Maya couldn't. He didn't look like a starving sewer rat, for one. He'd always been pretty good at taking care of his appearance, and it wasn't like there was a lack of resources or food at the order's temple.

"I love you."

Jesse wasn't supposed to sound broken.

They could stay in this room for as long as Jesse wanted. It wasn't as if Maya was able to flip the switch herself. If she tried to run, she wouldn't get far before a guard got her, and it didn't matter with Gill and Aiden still in their cells.

But she could turn away. There was nothing forcing her to look at Jesse, and all the better.

Maya wanted to hold Jesse, wanted to try and explain, to apologize, to say a million things she never would, and if she had to look at Jesse now, desperate and scared and looking fit to get on her knees and beg, she probably would.

It wasn't about what she wanted.

"Let it die."


	236. Daze (Jesse/Lukas)

Lukas ducked and moved to the side, the spinning vial missing his head and smashing into the wall, the inky liquid that had been inside oozing down the wall while pieces of glass went flying, several embedded into the wall.

Lukas wasn't lucky enough to dodge all of them, a shard slicing his cheek as it whizzed through the air.

He hissed through his teeth, wiping at his cheek as the offending piece hit the ground, his fingers and glove coming away with a smear of blood. The fingers of his other hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he moved back towards the center of the room and the center of the chaos.

Lukas should've known better by this point, but he hadn't been expecting to find Ivor wrestling with a rapidly-growing mass of man-eating moss. It was twice as tall as him, bright green clumps wriggling in different directions and the noises it made far more fitting of an animal than a plant. It hissed and roared, gurgling as it tried to wrap around Ivor.

It was going to be one of those days.

At a glance, it was hard to say which jar that had been in, when it was only a clipping and not a monstrosity, thanks to the scattered piles of shattered glass on the floor, which grew in both size and number as more and more potions and other specimen were knocked off the shelves. As more time passed, it got harder to tell, more things being smashed in the attempt to destroy the monster. What wasn't broken by misdirected or sloppy blows was destroyed by the other creatures and samples, some known and others not, that crawled or oozed out of their shattered prisons.

People needed to stop selling Ivor items and materials that were new to him.

Well, no, that wasn't fair. Ivor had the right to explore and merchants had the right to sell their wares.

Ivor really needed to stop bringing specimens home.

He could have them try to eat him when he was somewhere else, somewhere that didn't involve risking destroying the temple or the city that surrounded them. Lukas hadn't had any trouble hearing the cacophony of noises created by Ivor's yelling and glass breaking from where he'd been checking over some blueprints, but he was the only one. By the time he saw what was going on, he was literally dragged into the fight, and calling for help did nothing. Jesse and Petra were out training with Em, Axel was in Boom Town, and Olivia was in the basement making all the noise in the world that conveniently drowned out the noise made by the chaos a floor above her.

Both he and Ivor had their fair share of bad aim, mainly because the other was more often than not too close to the monster for comfort, also trying to attack it. It didn't help that the moss creature seemed intent on devouring what it could, and kept trying to gnaw on Lukas's sword when he tried to hit it.

Given that the monster continued to grow, it was hard for Lukas to find somewhere to hit. He raised his sword and swung with a grunt as he stepped away from the wall.

He was a bit too slow, the moss not focusing on the blade this time, but his hand. Multiple tiny, razor sharp teeth dug into skin, his hand burning as he managed to slice through the creature with his sword and yank his hand back while it was distracted.

Lukas blinked several times, the room becoming blurrier all the same.

He wasn't sure how long it was exactly, but it didn't take more than a few moments for his vision to give up on him altogether, and not a moment later his legs did too.

* * *

Waking up was a far better experience. Lukas found through a bit of shifting that he was no longer on the floor, instead on the couch with several fluffy blankets draped over him and his arms wrapped around a large pillow. The smell of chocolate was thick and strong, enough to get him to shift a bit more and mutter as his grip around the pillow tightened.

"How are you feeling?" The pillow that was apparently alive. He lifted his head, eyes opening before he smiled at Jesse. One of her hands was on his shoulder, a large mug in the other, steam curling off of the drink inside and wafting through the air.

"Nice." There was a part of him that insisted there was something off about pressing several kisses to her cheek, though he wasn't sure what. Oh well, it didn't matter. It was a small part of him, and muffled by the fact that she was warm and drifting off to sleep again sounded rather nice. "Better now."

"Lukas!" Lukas's shoulders relaxed as he pulled his head back. Whatever he was worried about, it was silly. Jesse was smiling, giggling, despite the fact that she was holding her hot chocolate away from her as the milky brown drink swirled a bit in the mug. That was good.

"I'm serious." Her smile twitched as it fell for a moment, mouth looking strained afterwards. That was less good.

"So am I." She sighed, running a hand through her hair, her lips parting to show her teeth. "How do you feel? How's your hand?"

Lukas paused, relaxing his grip on Jesse a bit as he wriggled his fingers, warm where they were inside a glove and between her back and the couch cushion. Why would there be something wrong with one of his hands?

There was a small sting, his hands going still as he tightened his grip around Jesse once again, fingers digging into her shirt.

"Good. It's fine." Her smile had been replaced by a frown. Lukas winced, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment before he continued, leaning closer to her again. "Alright, it aches a little, but it's not that bad. What happened?"

"According to Ivor, that creature bit you and you passed out. Petra and I got there almost right after, and we were able to take down the moss what-not. You've been out of it for a while." Jesse moved her hand from his shoulder to his hair, twirling and lightly pulling at a bit here and there. He leaned into her touch. "If you'd fallen the other way, you could've had a face full of glass."

"Fun." It wasn't as nice to think about as falling back to sleep had been.

"Mm-hmm. Maybe you should start _using_ your goggles when you fight something like that." She tapped one of the goggle lens that were resting against his forehead, causing the goggles to shift against his hair, her attempted glare not having the effect she was likely going for due to her lips twitching upwards into another smile.

"Got it. If I see a plant monster again, I'll try to remember." He got a huff out of her and a light shove to his shoulder. "How's Ivor?"

"As happy as you could expect." In other words, a trip to his laboratory meant a good verbal lashing at best and becoming the subject of an impromptu experiment at worst. "I don't think he blames you. Not really."

"How'd I get here?"

"Petra carried you to the infirmary. She could hardly get you to stop nuzzling her." Jesse chuckled, taking a drink of her hot chocolate. Lukas raised an eyebrow, drawing nothing but blanks. There were a few odd flags that rose at that. He didn't remember Petra carrying him, but there was something about the way Jesse talked about him nuzzling her.

"Is that a bad thing?"

There was a pause as Jesse took another drink, this one much longer. She didn't quite look at him, her gaze only drifting from her mug to him for a brief moment.

"You've been like a cuddle-bug, and it's because of the plant. Partly, at least. It's supposed to be part of how it catches things to eat. Its spit acts as a type of depressant." Her chuckle this time was short and hollow. "You know, it slows you down. So when it bit you... well, it's intended to make you drowsy and relaxed."

"Oh." Lukas shrugged, shifting so that his head was resting against Jesse's chest. There was something telling him, something a bit larger than the similarly muffled other part of him, that being able to trace her ribs as well as he could wasn't a good thing. "Mission accomplished."

"...I helped you walk here after Ivor decided you would be fine and left to clean up his lab, but you were... pretty dazed at the time. Not really all there. I don't know if it's also supposed to make you this affectionate, but Ivor thinks it might be because of some of the other things that were running loose." Her fingers started playing with his hair again. "It should wear off on its own."

"If you say so." Lukas shrugged, his eyes sliding shut.


	237. Theater (Aiden/Jesse/Lukas)

Aiden isn't sure what to expect when Lukas and Jesse suggest going to a play. He knows the local theater's performing several tonight, thanks to the multitude of posters plastered around the city, but he can't recall either of them ever being that interested in theater.

(He's not sure why they keep humoring him either, but that's a different issue. They shouldn't have to include him when they clearly don't want to.)

He knows he didn't expect for the three of them to end up in seats in the darkened corner in the back. He certainly isn't expecting to be pounced on.

That's not an exaggeration. One second, the three of them are settling in their seats for some play whose name he can't recall, even if Jesse did chirp it at the attendant at the entrance less than a minute ago, and the next thing he knows the two of them are as on top of him as they can be while staying in their seats.

Hell, he doesn't even think Jesse's still in hers, but it's a bit hard to tell when her tongue's inside his mouth and his brain's short circuiting. By the time Aiden can start thinking again, Lukas's hands are under his shirt and his brain may as well be fried.

Thankfully, both he and Jesse need to breathe.

"There are certain moments where I consider you someone with brilliant ideas and a good future," Aiden hisses as Jesse pulls her head back, brushing some hair behind her ear with a hand, "this is not one of those moments."

"Do you want us to stop?" Damn her. It's a hard question to answer when she was just kissing him, when he can still taste her mouth on his, especially because the lips that are on his neck start to pull away at the suggestion.

"N-no." Both of them are panting, slightly, Aiden meeting her halfway for another, shorter kiss. One of his arms snakes around her waist while his other hand pulls at Lukas's side, his fingers digging into his shirt and his skin. "You're going to get caught."

And pulling them closer doesn't help their chances at all, but his brain doesn't seem to be communicating with the rest of him.

He's pretty sure they've been performing this play for weeks on end, and it makes sense that anybody that would want to see it would have already. The theater isn't quite deserted, with enough people in the better-lit areas up front to keep the attention of performers that may be looking into the crowd off of the three of them, and none of them are in anything other than casual attire, but that doesn't change the fact that it feels like the three of them are on stage.

They were lucky to get in with minimal fanfare as it is. Being as late as it is, even with how protected the city is, few people are roaming the streets, and without the rest of the order or their armor, Jesse and Lukas managed to get inside with little more than a lingering glance from the usher.

"I don't think either of us care," Lukas mumbles as he presses several kisses to Aiden's neck, Aiden tilting his head back a bit and Lukas taking advantage of his exposed skin, lips trailing up the side of his neck.

"Maybe you should." Aiden glances from Lukas to the stage in front of them, the setting having changed and become even darker since he last looked and a performer taking painfully long to fake his death, a crudely made wooden sword under his arm.

"Aiden." He looks up at Jesse, several of her bangs falling in front of her eyes and her mouth close enough to his that she could bite him before he could do so much as wince. She takes her hands off of him, arms at her sides with the rest of her body as pulled back from him as it can be with how tight his grip is on her. "Do you want this?"

It may be the dumbest question he's ever been asked. The setting might not be the most comfortable, with the wooden back of the chair digging into his back and the armrest between him and Lukas making for a nuisance at best and an obstacle at worst, but there's enough background noise from the play itself and the audience's occasional mutters that adds a certain thrill he can't explain. Lukas and Jesse are almost right on top of him, and both look ready to kiss him until one of them passes out.

Even if they were in the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, though the theater chairs are of a quality that suggests the builders were going for something along those lines, this is more than he could ever possibly think to ask for.

"Y-yes." The corners of Jesse's mouth turn up in a smile as she leans closer to him, voice barely loud enough to be considered a whisper while one of her hands end up on his shoulder, her nails digging into him as her fingers curl.

"Good." She presses her lips against his, Aiden letting out a half-choked sound before returning it.

It's easier to ignore the play the longer they carry on. They reach the point where it's also easier if Lukas just sits in his lap, neither of them complaining about the arrangement, and it's a smoother experience from there, Jesse kissing them both while it becomes hard to tell whose hand is on who. Aiden has to consciously muffle himself and cut off his own noises, but it could be worse.

It's not as if the theater hasn't had its fair share of audience members that prefer making out to actually watching the play.

When they stagger out of the theater hours later, the play having finally ended and their clothes and hair disheveled and ruffled about, it's hard not to just run to the temple. At some point, between making it inside the building and getting to Lukas's room, they've gotten tangled up again, more stumbling through the doorway than walking through it.


	238. Needed (Aiden/Lukas)

When Aiden had been let out of Sky City's prison, alongside Maya and Gill, the first thing he did was go through the portal.

Or, made the request to be allowed to go through the portal. Actually getting permission for the three of them had taken longer than it should've.

Couldn't have an ex-criminal roaming freely around all the portals on the other side, could they? Even though he was free, even though he knew trying to pull something would be suicide. They couldn't risk it.

Of course they couldn't.

But he'd been allowed through, in the end, with an escort consisting of multiple guards that made sure the three of them made it to their world and only their world. The portal hall was complex, dark and never ending, and it would've been too easy to get lost in there if it hadn't been for all the signs labeling said portals.

The Order of the Stone had been making quite the name for themselves, apparently, in other worlds. Enough that they were the only important thing to note about their portal.

They arrived in their world looking exactly like they did in prison.

None of them had been able to take a shower in months, and the last bathe had been more of a shove into the lake weeks before.

His parents hadn't taken his return as well as Maya and Gill's parents had theirs— that was to say, Aiden's slammed the door on his face before he could get a word out. He didn't have enough money to get him a place at the inn, and he didn't dare bother Maya and Gill, both who he knew would gladly let him stay.

He'd done enough damage to them as it was.

He could always just try to live on his own out in the wilderness, with a shack of his own, or travel to another city, but the trip could take weeks, over a month if the weather was bad, seeing as how he'd have to do it all on foot, and he'd be the only one taking the trip.

Solitary confinement had ended several weeks before they'd been released, but that didn't mean he couldn't vividly remember how crippling being alone felt.

So, with no one else to turn to, Aiden had gone to the order's temple. He wanted to try and make amends anyway, even if he didn't see it working out.

It was sheer luck that he ran into Lukas first, instead of Axel or Olivia, who would've chased him off at best and left him as a bloody pulp at worst. Lukas, who wasn't happy to see him, but let him inside anyway. Aiden wasn't sure if it was because they used to be best friends or if it was because he looked like something a wolf had dragged in, skin and bones and as filthy as if he'd rolled in an animal's pen, hair matted and shaggy enough to cover his eyes. When it came to dealing with Jesse, Aiden only had a short conversation with her, Lukas talking to her about it once the two of them were out of sight and nearly out of earshot.

He couldn't complain; the compromise they'd worked out meant that Aiden could stay.

Before the night was over, he got a haircut and the first real shower he'd had in ages, and as the days went on, similar fears were taken care of. He didn't have to worry about only getting scraps; the pantry could probably feed a small army for a week. He had a room of his own, even if he found himself spending more time in Lukas's.

He hadn't been able to leave the temple in the weeks since, but that made sense. He'd been a criminal, a wannabe-murderer, and the last thing they could do after helping him build his strength back up, he'd already put what little weight he’d originally had, if not more, back on in the month —or was it two?— that he’d been with them and found moving around to be easier when he wasn't exhausted from starvation, was let him run free in a city full of innocent people.

What he didn't understand as much was why Lukas spent so much time around him. He never looked happy when he did, and Aiden couldn't blame him.

The fact that he seemed no more pleased with Aiden now than he did when Aiden was being hauled off to jail didn't add up with the way Lukas would pat a spot on the bed beside him when Aiden entered the room, at Lukas's own request, and would then wrap his arms around Aiden and snuggle with him when Aiden complied.

It was nice.

Just... odd.

If only because of the reminders Lukas kept whispering to him. Aiden didn't need them, he knew it all well enough, but Lukas seemed to feel the need to remind him.

“You can’t leave me. You couldn’t live without me.”

But, well, it wasn't like he was wrong.

"I know." Aiden shifted, Lukas's grip on his hair tightening as he hooked a leg over both of his, his other arm pulling him closer. Aiden tightened his grip in turn, his arms wrapped around Lukas's middle. The blankets were pulled up to Aiden’s shoulder, covering more than half of Lukas’s chest. "I won't, I promise."

"Good. I'm all that's keeping you from being in another cell." He'd tried to murder two famous heroes; it was a miracle if the rest of the world didn't hate him. "I didn't have to take you in."

"I know." Without him around, maybe Maya and Gill were doing alright. Maybe nobody blamed them, or not as badly as they would have if he was with them. This was better for everybody.

"If you leave me again, you'll wish you were dead."

"I know." Aiden tilted his head, chin resting against Lukas's chest.

"And if you act up, I'll toss you out. I don't need you."

Maybe it hurt, the thought that Lukas didn't need him the way Aiden had come to realize he needed Lukas. It shouldn't have, though, not really. He'd never been important enough for that.

Lukas had never needed him.


	239. Parents (Jesse/Lukas) (Petra/Olivia)

The temple and the surrounding city was covered in a thick blanket of snow, soft and light enough to be blown about into tiny flurries by the wind that howled whenever the doors opened, the cold's attempts to infiltrate the warm and toasty building largely unsuccessful, windows standing strong and illuminated by steady candles, wax trailing down in slow but constant trickles while brighter light was provided by lamps hanging from the ceiling.

It was a peaceful enough evening, at least as peaceful as any of them could ask for, Petra having retreated to the basement after she'd had her fun enjoying the ridiculous and overblown event that was Axel and Ivor trying to drink each other under the table, Ivor aided by years of building up a tolerance to health potions and Axel having a decent advantage from size alone, Olivia ducking out shortly after to allegedly tinker with some new invention that she'd managed to hide from all of them.

(Conveniently, her workshop happened to occupy a section of the basement. Even more conveniently, Olivia had, surprisingly enough, been the one to start hanging mistletoe around the temple, and from what Jesse had seen her workshop had been no exception.)

It was luck and luck alone that the two of them were too drunk to actually go through with the ideas involving lava that they had been exchanging, instead passed out in their seats with various mugs and bottles covering what space on the table their heads and arms didn't take up.

The sun had set hours ago, just as their own party had begun to kick up, the sky going from blue to a mesmerizing mix of pinks and purples that stretched across the snowy plains and hills before finally going black, a sea of stars taking what had been the sun's place earlier.

And now, after hours of games, songs, stories, and bizarre challenges and bets, things were winding down and there seemed to be no better time for a chat.

(Of course, a few hours ago would've been as good a time, as would any instance between then and now, but Jesse chose to ignore that.)

It was topic she wasn't particularly sure how to bring up, honestly. Just because she'd done it before didn't mean she was comfortable with doing it again; if anything, her past experiences only helped make her more paranoid and aware of all the dangers she could put someone even remotely close to her in, never mind one so vulnerable.

There were other issues to be considered, some just as worrying, if not more so, than the ever present threat of potential traps and desperate enemies.

(Like the public. Jesse liked saving people, she really did, but she could do without the persistent media and fame that came with it. The 'respectable' name of the order had already been tarnished by their predecessors, and it never seemed like the fame actually came in handy when it was supposed to.)

Actually, disappearing off the face of the world sounded pretty desirable. Maybe they could try living in a different world, one of the more peaceful ones that didn't know much about them?

That left a few questions about the people that would still need help and the adventures they'd been planning, but Jesse knew that her friends could take care of themselves fine without her. She wasn't sure about any actual concrete plans yet, but she'd endangered enough people before that she knew she would do everything in her power to keep from doing it again.

There was, of course, the issue of figuring out how to talk about it with Lukas. She'd find a way to make things safe no matter what he did, but this involved him too. She loved him, and he loved her. He said he did, at any rate, and it was part of how they got into this mess in the first place.

It really didn't help that Ivor had a look that could only be described as insufferably smug on his face whenever the two of them were in the same room together. He seemed to find some kind of twisted entertainment out of her tiptoeing around and ignoring the subject, and if he hadn't been covering his head and murmuring things in what was a slumber sure to be followed by a monster of a hangover in the morning, he probably would be giving her that look now.

Jesse downed what was left of her drink, setting the empty cup back on the counter beside a small mound of ripped and discarded wrapping paper they'd no doubt have to take care of tomorrow, before exiting the room, closing the kitchen door behind her as quietly as she could. Oiled or not, iron doors weren't particularly known for going well with stealth.

She wasn't sure where Lukas had gone, but it had only taken a bit of poking around, his room being empty and dark, to find him in the living area.

There was tinsel hanging from the hooks in the walls, dipping almost dangerously low to the crackling orange flames that twisted and curled about between the bricks that made up the fireplace. The poker was propped up against the wall, silver tip coated in cooling ashes.

She found Lukas on the couch in front of the fire, eyes half-lidded and his head relaxing against the back cushion, the room empty save for him.

He wrapped an arm around her as she sat down next to him, the cushion sinking slightly under her, lifting his head to nuzzle her neck as she leaned into him.

"Your present's going to be a bit late... 9 months late, so to speak."

That got him to stiffen.

His hand shifted, fingers curling tightly around the handle of what was a slipping mug, the hot chocolate inside sloshing perilously close to the edge, as he straightened up, pulling away from her just enough to look her in the eye.

"Y-you mean you're— w-we're going to be—" Monsters as big as building, creatures that spat poison and could breathe fire, and enemies with blades as big as him didn't have him stuttering as much. It was enough to ease the turning of her stomach, if only slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

"Mm-hm." He blinked at her before leaning into her again, smile admittedly bewildered but there and bright as ever, with just the slightest occasional twitch to it.

"…well, okay then."


	240. Easy (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Gabriel liked to think of himself as alert even at his most tired, but he wasn't expecting company, not like this. He hadn't known he was going to be ambushed, at the top of one set of stairs but at the bottom of another, his sword and armor cushioned somewhat by the cloth bag but still making a considerable amount of noise as they hit the floor. The only thing keeping him from making any noise of his own was the hand pressed against his mouth, which happened to send up a number of red flags.

Ellegaard shifting to hold onto the collar of his shirt, two bare fingers hooking it from underneath as her other hand fell from his mouth, managed to set off just as many.

"Gabriel... you're my friend, aren't you?" Her voice, nearly sing-song, was accompanied by a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her clothes and hair seemed devoid of redstone, nothing glinting in the torchlight, a considerable feat given her frequent and quite vocal frustrations involving getting the dust out of either, and her goggles and usual clothes had been discarded in favor of a more questionable outfit. She licked her lips as she leaned into him, Gabriel catching another whiff of a perfume that lingered as she did. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Ellegaard." Gabriel's back met with the wall as he attempted to take a step back, the bag on the floor clinking again as his heel hit it. "Wh-why are you doing this?"

"Why wouldn't I? Is there something I'm not supposed to like?" The smile became a grin, all teeth and still no warmth as she glanced down at the rest of him. Somehow, Gabriel didn't think the chill he got was due to his thin underclothes.

"I'm serious." Gabriel frowned, stiffening slightly but not looking away from Ellegaard as something near the top of the stairs creaked. The halls were well-lit enough that monsters weren't a concern, especially seeing as how a certain laboratory had been vacated. If Ellegaard heard the sound, the only sign was her tightening grip.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's because Magnus doesn't take any of this seriously. Maybe it's because he drools over every busty airhead in a too short dress that passes by. Maybe I'm just a little bit sick of being treated like he treats every other one-night stand, except he knows I'll still be here in the morning." Ellegaard tilted her head, lips brushing against his. "Take a guess."

" _Ellegaard_." It was with a huff that she pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong now?"

"You can't tell me you don't see the problem here." Her eyebrow only rose higher, Gabriel sighing as he pushed her away, hand on her shoulder and his grip firm but gentle. "You're my best friend's girlfriend— I can't do this to him. This isn't like you."

"Oh, for— don't take it so personally. Notch knows Magnus doesn't." Her voice lowered to a mutter as she looked away from him, letting go of his shirt, her upper lip curling back for a moment. "It's not like he'd care. Just— just let me feel like I'm not another in a long list of names for once, alright?"

It seemed odd to him that they were whispering if Magnus wouldn't care, and Ellegaard was smart enough to know the chances of being found here were high.

"That sounds like something you should take up with him." He lowered his hand, but she didn't make any movements to come closer, rolling her eyes.

"Right. Come on, Gabriel, snap out of it. Since The Dragon—" And it was indeed The Dragon, the two words conveying severity in both how one incident had made them renowned heroes as well as how the same incident proved how easy it was to fool the world, "it's all gone to hell. Ivor's gone, Soren can barely be bothered to stop cooing over the command block long enough to feed himself, you keep acting like things'll be fine if we pretend nothing's changed, and Magnus is treating everything like a giant joke."

"...yes, well, everyone has their own ways of dealing with things." Since Ivor's 'disappearance', and Soren's subsequent tweaking of the story to never mention him at all, they seemed to have fallen into a rut of sorts. Soren only insisted that the others continue to attend the many festivals and celebrations being held in their honor, and any questions regarding what they would do next were quickly deflected with similar insistence and comments about experimentation on the inexplicable block responsible for their newfound glory.

They had continued to train as they used to, at first, but it quickly became clear that there was no point, and the continuing stagnation led to other activities and plans as constant parties began to lose their luster. Despite living in the same building, entire days could go by before he saw one of the others. As far as Gabriel knew, he was the only one who bothered to train anymore, and even then training occurred far less often than it used to.

Slaying the dragon was supposed to be their beginning, a way to establish themselves as heroes and signify the start of a long line of quests and adventures, but it was shaping up to be their premature end.

" _You_ try loving him and then listen to all the other names he mutters in his sleep. Then you can tell me how _easy_ it is." Ellegaard didn't wait for a response before she turned, hand on the rail and scowl on her face. She didn't look back as she made her way up the stairs.

"I never said it was easy." Losing one of their best friends had been hard enough, but what remained between the friends left behind was breaking apart on the inside. Gabriel hoped, desperately hoped, he was wrong, but it felt like it was only a matter of time.


	241. Foolish

Ivor had, perhaps, underestimated the abilities of the new Order of the Stone.

It wasn't that he didn't have any faith in their talents, many of which had ended up saving his life at one point or another, so much as he hadn't put enough faith in their collective stupidity regarding self-preservation.

He had thought, though, that the injuries he would have to deal with would be small, and that he'd be spending more time experimenting and working on his potions than he would trying to keep them all alive, given that few of the order members could afford to be in the same place at the same time for long.

At least half of the rooms were vacant at any given time, even at night. No one had entered Olivia's workshop in several weeks, not since she had left for Redstonia.

Gabriel and Magnus were more than capable of keeping things together while she and Axel had been searching for the rest of the order, but neither of them were inventors, and neither had anything close to the skill Olivia did with redstone. Axel had similarly been off and on having his fun in Boom Town while Magnus was away, and had somehow managed to stay alive this long without crawling back to the temple for healing, instead returning for the occasional adventure, like he had that day, or to lay down more pranks and traps around the temple, while Petra had continued taking and making deals when she wasn't on missions for the order, most times not returning until early in the morning or later the next day, and Lukas and Jesse simply did their best to help people out around the city in whatever way they could when they weren't out exploring unknown areas or investigating small issues that always seemed to find their way to them.

After their little jaunt through the portal network, a trip where he'd run out of proper healing supplies and by the end had been cobbling together what pathetic remedies and bandages he could from the resources that happened to be around at the time, a trip that was enough to make all adventures look a bit more undesirable for several weeks thereafter, one would think that serious injuries would be far and few between.

And yet.

 _And yet_.

Not coming close to death at least once per adventure seemed to be entirely beyond their reach.

Petra, who was more than ready to throw herself into a sea of monsters, or Axel, as bad as Magnus when it came to thinking things through, if not worse, he could understand. But Lukas?

Ivor knew that anyone could be hurt, and had taken care of Lukas's injuries as often as he did for Jesse and Petra when they'd been stuck roaming the portal network. When he was hurt, more often than not, it had been to keep someone else from being hurt, or by pure chance and through mistakes that anyone could make.

Lukas was supposed to be one of the more reasonable ones.

Touching an unfamiliar object was not befitting of someone supposedly rational. The pathetic, woolen excuses for gloves that he wore hardly substituted for proper protection. A glowing orb, floating in the middle of an otherwise barren room, should've been warning enough.

It was a miracle that it hadn't left him with more serious burns. His eyes seemed to be unaffected, but it would be hard to say for sure until Lukas woke up. The moments it had taken to check his breathing and heartbeat were far too long for Ivor's liking, and a reminder that he had to stop putting so much faith in the people around him if he wanted to keep them from killing themselves.

Ivor let the black bag that held most of his medical supplies rest on the desk as he sat down, a light clinking coming from inside the bag. He let his back rest against the back of the chair as he pulled off his gloves, glaring at the wrapped and unconscious body resting in the corner of the room.

What Lukas needed now was rest, a change of bandages in a day or so, and a healing potion if the pain persisted by the time he was awake. He _would_ wake up, and it wouldn't be until then that Ivor could assess any mental damage.

The only thing that kept Ivor from throttling him was the knowledge that it would make his previous efforts to keep the blasted fool alive worthless.

Ivor leaned down, reaching under the desk to pick up the metal box in which they'd managed to contain the object that had gotten them into this mess. The sphere was surprisingly easy to secure in one of the few iron chests Ivor had for dangerous materials and specimen, the light disappearing as it fell to the floor, clear as it bounced.

It was easy to mistake as being made of glass, but glass didn't do anything other than shatter when it hit a block as hard as quartz.

Ivor hadn't been able to find anything close to resembling a crack on it when he'd inspected it then. Now, as he was forced to play the waiting game, he could give it a far better examination than he'd been able to in their rush to return to the temple. They'd entered the odd fortress, half of it above ground, golden spires covered in vines and moss as they stretched towards the sky, and surrounded by fields while the rest of it consisted of elegant and elaborate underground chambers, in hopes of discovering more about the various stories spread about the people who used to live there. There'd been the slight hiccup of one of their teammates nearly dying yet again, but that didn't mean Ivor couldn't still try to learn what he could from the orb.

He paused, hand inches away from the chest as he went still.

Someone was limping. Petra was stubborn enough that she would instead try to force her walk to be normal, to the point where she wouldn't be limping unless it was a serious injury, serious enough that there would be someone by her side fussing about.

The last he'd seen of her, Axel had been by her side, and Ivor knew from experience that he'd be rushing her along if she was in such a condition. Lukas was asleep in the cot not ten feet from Ivor, and Olivia had business to take care of in Redstonia. The healers there may not have always been renowned, but Olivia was smart enough that she'd take any injuries, at least those that left her in a bad enough condition that she'd be limping, to the nearest professionals first, and Axel's gait was normally slower and heavier.

The last he'd seen Jesse, he'd sent her away so he could have peace to work on Lukas and so she could sleep.

Somehow, he doubted she'd managed to hurt herself by lying in bed.

Ivor resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands as he picked up the bag he'd just set down and walked over to the door.

It was going to be a long day.


	242. Exhausted

Jesse lifted her head slightly as she looked around her, the rest of the couch covered in her sleeping friends. On one hand, she always liked it when this happened, when there was enough time for all of them to just be together and relax, but on the other hand, most times it was for happier reasons.

Sure, they were tired, and sure, some of them probably should've still been resting in their own beds and healing, and if this was the only way they were going to get any sleep, so be it, but there was something about comfort that was very desirable at the moment.

Their last adventure... hadn't been good.

They were all alive, and that had to count for something, even if it wasn't much, but generally speaking that was supposed to be more of a given than a silver lining.

It was the sort of adventure where they were aching days later, and while it had technically been a success, there were far too many close calls for anybody's liking. Near-deaths were par for the course for them at this point, but in most cases only one of them usually got the scare or was hurt. Almost half the team had been affected badly, and the rest of them had more scrapes and cuts that needed tending to than they knew what to do with.

Petra had a fever that led to a few fun instances of her attacking someone in a daze, Axel had a burn on his leg that had needed more than a few potions to heal, one that gave him a limp that was impossible to hide despite his best efforts, and Olivia's fingers pretty much had to be regrown. The bones had still been there, but as for the flesh... not so much. The skin hadn't stood a chance. Jesse wasn't sure if it would've been better if she'd fainted or not, but the healing potion Ivor had given her could only do so much for the pain. It was with shaky fingers that she'd wrapped the cloth he'd offered her around her hand, and despite how they'd rushed back to the temple on horses that had been splashed with a potion of swiftness, Olivia was almost entirely unresponsive. She couldn't stop trembling, and focusing on anything for more than a second seemed to be impossible.

It was a mixed blessing when the next potion Ivor gave her did end up knocking her out.

The three of them were fine now, if exhausted, and healed well enough that Ivor couldn't actually confine them to their beds anymore, but there was no doubt as to why they'd been the first three to fall asleep. Olivia still had a glove on her hand, and apparently it was tender enough that working on her machines had become a bit of a one handed challenge.

Jesse stilled, only now realizing that her foot had been twitching back and forth as Ivor shifted, grumbling, voice little above a mumble and yet so much louder than the relative silence had been. It helped that her head kept switching from resting on his shoulder to Em's chest, making hearing him easy.

"... _why_ do I keep letting you talk me into these things?"

She wasn't sure if he was referring to the cuddle pile or if he meant the bad mission turned worse. She assumed the cuddle pile was because he needed comfort too, but his reasons behind agreeing to join them on an adventure after the nasty issue in town were fuzzier to her.

Maybe it was because he was something of a workaholic who had to know, on some level, that taking a break now and then was a good thing and something he sorely needed.

(Even if his idea of a break was a dangerous adventure that nearly got them all killed. Jesse wouldn't judge; he wasn't any weirder than she was. Well, mostly. Jesse was pretty sure he’d snagged a clipping of the ooze creature while he had the chance, but she wasn’t about to ask.)

Maybe it was because when they all got excited, as was typical when all of them were actually in the same place for more than just a day and could go out on adventures as a full team again, and their enthusiasm had been contagious.

(Sometimes he was the most excited of them all, hardly taking a moment to stand still as he'd dart from place to place to gather supplies or to explore a new area. Maybe he was worried about them growing complacent, stagnant, though that didn't seem likely with the way adventures always seemed to find them; case in point, the slime creature made purely of toxic sludge and ooze that they'd found lurking deep within the winding cave system that kept claiming miners. Now they could at least say that, knowing full well it wasn't the sole cause for all the "accidents" and "disappearances" thanks to the other monsters they'd found and the number of skulls and bones found in the jagged little pit that had been its den not lining up with the sheer droves of people that had vanished, that miners had one less slime monster to worry about.

(As well as one less giant fire breathing ocelot and two less creeper nests, courtesy of the same villager that had also created the slime creature and was apparently very skilled in dark magic, but those had been far easier to take down. _They_ hadn't tried to absorb their weapons and armor.)

Still, she could understand the fear. After all, Ivor had seen firsthand what being able to just get something without having to work for it could do to people.)

Maybe it was because it was one of the few ways he could leave the temple without having nasty looks and worse jabs thrown his way.

There'd been one really bad trip from his house to the temple where somebody had actually tried to attack him, little less than a week before the disaster that was their latest adventure. Ivor'd gotten away with a black eye and a sore nose, but it could've ended a lot worse if he'd been attacked by a knife instead of fists. The entire team had been reasonably displeased, meaning it was only because they were supposed to be good people and because they'd get arrested too that they didn't try to make an example of his attacker.

Petra, who happened to be in charge of the city guard, had a field day that time. She'd done all the paperwork necessary to make sure the offender got at least a week in jail, and, while the fine wasn't ridiculous, though still not quite what Jesse would call enough, no one paid the fine until three days into his sentence.

(Come to think of it, staying up for almost two days without sleeping while she'd done it probably hadn't helped her when she'd unsuccessfully tried to fend off getting sick, but it wasn't as if Jesse hadn't tried to get her to sleep. She'd ended up working beside Petra for both those nights, fighting off Petra's insistence that she sleep by pointing out that she wasn't.)

The adventure had been a successful attempt to get Ivor out of the temple again, and it'd certainly kept him busy for days after, what with him being their only real medic and all. If regrowing body parts wasn't what it took to get him out of his shell again, Jesse didn't know what was.

Really though, maybe it was the same reason he was in the middle of the cuddle pile next to her.

Maybe it was just because he cared about them as much as they cared about him.

“We're a family now," Jesse whispered back, mouth twitching into a smile, "Whether you like it or not."

"Joy." Still, he made no move to leave, if he even could, only shifting, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned more to his side, his head resting against someone else's shoulder— Lukas's, if the light grunt was anything to go by.


	243. Shame (Aiden/Jesse)

When Jesse wakes up, he's greeted by hot breath on his neck before he opens his eyes. Even without opening them, he can tell there's more light out than there would be from just torches, though not much more. After another moment, the depression in the mattress makes a lot more sense as the body in his arms shifts, a cold nose nuzzling his neck.

There's a moment of confusion before he remembers the night before.

He's not used to it, but it's nice.

Unfortunately, he opens his eyes just as the nuzzling stops, and when he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, the mattress creaks and there's a lot more blanket in Jesse's arms than person.

"Aiden." He doesn't stop pulling away. In fact, Aiden moves to get off the bed entirely, moving towards the clothes pile that consists of Jesse's shirt and all of Aiden's clothes, save his boxers.

"Yeah, yeah, I know how this goes. I'll grab my clothes and get out of here." Jesse shifts forward, his fingers wrapping around one of Aiden's wrists, one that was almost out of his reach, and Aiden's attempt to pull himself out of Jesse's grip isn't very successful. It's not just because Jesse's training has started to pay off in muscle; Aiden's always been skinny like this, for as long as Jesse can remember, and while the weight he lost in jail's been slowly crawling back bit by bit, it's not too much of a stretch to say that he's at where he used to be, a better but still scarily small weight. He gets a huff before Aiden turns to look at him. "What?"

"Where are you going? The sun's not even up yet."

Aiden doesn't exactly give in, but he doesn't put up any more resistance as Jesse pulls him back, instead busy looking at Jesse like he's lost his mind. Jesse stops after getting him back on the mattress, watching as Aiden puts on the pants and shirt he managed to snag, the latter one he seems to be realizing is Jesse's instead of his and one that he puts on anyway even if it's a both a bit too baggy and a bit too short, and Jesse doesn't attempt to wrap his arms around him yet, though he wants to for various reasons.

(The biggest of these reasons being, of course, that he's very groggy, Aiden wears his shirt much better than he does, and he very much wants to cuddle for a few more hours until it's actually a good time to get up, which is to say, certainly not now.)

"It's sunrise."

"So it's getting there. Still not up." Jesse rubs at one of his eyes as he looks at the window letting in the offending light before he turns his head to look back at Aiden, who still looks like he's thinking about bolting. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm going— _was_ going back to my room." His glare's empty, and his expression softens almost immediately afterwards. "Somebody's going to find out I was here if I don't go soon."

"So?" Jesse raises an eyebrow. "Aiden, I meant what I said. I don't care what anybody else thinks."

He's not quite expecting it when Aiden, after staring at him for another moment or two, springs into action, landing at him and pulling him into a tight hug that Jesse's happy to return.

One of the worst things was knowing that Aiden didn't feel safe, whether they were in his room or Jesse's. He was terrified about them being found out when they were just cuddling, and getting to the point where he'd actually fall asleep in the same bed took a lot of time and patience. Not that Jesse minds waiting; he just hates that his own friends are enough to scare Aiden, that what they might or might not think, say, or do, is enough to get him to want to hide when all they do is make Jesse feel safe.

They talked about it a few times yesterday; Aiden had every right to say no if he wanted to, but he shouldn't have had to make a choice based on what he thought the others would do to him. He still shouldn't.

Jesse isn't going to let that happen.

It's bad enough that Aiden has plenty of warped ideas about himself that don't make any sense to Jesse or clash with his own. Trying to get him back to a healthy weight, or to a healthy weight since his starting point wasn't much better, isn't easy when Aiden gets moody and tries to skip meals, and convincing him that he could stay in the temple and get a job in town was almost impossible, even though Aiden both claimed that he didn't want charity and yet didn't even have enough money to spend a night at the local inn.

Aiden sabotaging his own health and safety because of his own thoughts hurts Jesse, and his friends making the situation worse, whether by accident or deliberately, just isn't a possibility he's willing to consider.

If any of them decide to barge in, that's their fault, and who he is or isn't sleeping with isn't any of their business anyway. Even if they don't like it, that's not Jesse's problem.

Really, it's no wonder that he thinks Jesse was lying, that it didn't mean anything, however wrong the idea might be and however much Jesse might absolutely hate it.

"You're the only one I know who can screw up a one night stand." Aiden grumbles, with a smile that's easy to hear in his voice, as the two of them lie down again, Jesse pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

"What can I say? It's just not my thing." Jesse shuts his eyes as Aiden pulls the heavy blankets up around them again and blocks out the light, burying his face in Aiden's neck as he pulls him closer.

This is much better.


	244. Shove (Ellegaard/Magnus)

Magnus was used to rude awakenings. It was part of being a griefer, along with paranoia, scars, and burns. Lots and lots of burns. He wasn't stupid enough to let his guard down around other griefers, but even behind a wall of obsidian, exploding TNT had a way of making for a good alarm clock. It worked, even if the time was never reliable. The occasional nightmares were about as welcome and less useful, but he accepted there was nothing he could do about them other than get moving or try to fall back to sleep.

It made him a light sleeper, something that came in handy more often than not, but waking somebody up by jabbing them with inhumanly icy fingers was perhaps the rudest of awakenings and hardly appreciated.

(He would know. He'd done it plenty of times in the past, usually getting scowls made by faces far too tired to respond properly and glares from eyes narrowed enough that they may as well have been, and often were, shut, in return.)

He'd already opened his eyes when Ellegaard started to poke and shove at him, soon hissing something or other as she did, the words hard to hear over what he was coming to realize was the similar creaking and hissing of whatever redstone contraptions she'd shoved into the corner of the room. He didn't have to worry about not understanding her the first few times, the words not changing as she continued to try to shove him, the jabs getting rougher as he screwed his eyes shut and held on tight to the pillow his head was on, out of the bed.

Her bed.

His had springs that tended to squeak at every little thing, while hers seemed to be doing its best to stay quiet while its owner did the opposite.

"Get out, get out, get out, get out!"

Looking at her, it occurred to him that she was as naked as he was, though she probably could use a shower as much as it felt like he could too. It was a sight he had a feeling he’d appreciate more if she stopped pushing him. But how had he gotten into her bed? The last thing he remembered was—

Oh, right.

They'd been celebrating some adventure or other, the details fuzzier and coming back to Magnus slower than the memories of the actual party. Soren really knew how to party, for a shut-in with no idea what personal boundaries were.

Ellegaard was fun when she was drunk. He guessed he was too, but hey, he was always fun.

(She used to be fun, able to crack a smile while sober and relax every now and then, before either of them had ever met Gabriel or thought about joining the order. But she'd started getting stuffier, started focusing more and more on her inventions and ignoring him, and Magnus wasn't the type of guy who liked to be outdone. Giving each other the cold shoulder got pretty boring pretty quickly, and at least just up and ditching each other wasn't as awkward.

Magnus wasn't very good at letting sleeping dogs lie, and rekindling what they had sounded about as easy and appealing as setting off a stack of TNT, not that he was complaining. She'd seemed to be loosening up again slowly after joining the order, though she either hadn't known it or hadn't expected to get back to the point they were at last night, the latter more likely. There wasn't much she didn't know, insufferable as she could be about it.)

"Good morning to you too."

He got an extra hard jab in the side for that, nails digging into his skin. He had a feeling the bruises there had less to do with yesterday's adventure and more with what left her neck bright red and his mouth awfully sore.

Ellegaard didn't seem to appreciate the somewhat lazy and short kick made in the general area of where her head had been, and Magnus found himself falling off of the edge, pillow in tow, and onto the discarded clothes that were spread around on the carpet. She didn't miss a beat, following him off the bed, staying on her feet as she gathered the clothes he wasn't already laying before shoving them into his arms with a hand as she used the other to grab his arm and yank him up.

"Get _out_!"

He hardly had time to get his boxers on before she snatched the pillow back and shut the door, the click the quietest thing he'd heard since waking up.

That left him almost entirely naked in the empty hall, light trickling in past the red curtains that covered the large window in the middle. The carpet wasn't exactly warm underneath his bare feet, but it was better than tile, even if there was an inexplicable draft that had timing almost as bad as his own. It felt and looked like it was way too early to be up, so after that shower, burying himself in his own bed didn't sound half bad.

Ellegaard spent too much time running circles around everybody in her head. He was getting mixed signals, but that just meant that, since she'd decided to kick him out, they were open for interpretation.

(Not a good thing to let a griefer have control over, but, again, it was early, and by the time Ellegaard realized her mistake, she'd have finished stripping the bed and scrubbing the sheets clean. She'd probably have sorted out the mental breakdown too, but those could take a while.)

He shrugged to himself as he dug into his pants pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, the first with a sizable dent that hadn't been there before yesterday and the second crumpled and the muted colors worn around the many creases. He glanced at the door as he pulled out a cigarette and held it with two fingers.

Magnus grinned as he lit the cigarette, tucking the clothes under his arm. He gave a short, low whistle that didn't bother to find a tune as he began to walk back to his room, stuffing the lighter and the cigarette pack back in the pile of clothes.

He decided to take it as an invitation to try for a repeat later.


	245. Different

There's something jarring about being cheered on by people who used to mock or ignore them.

It's even worse when they ask for an autograph, practically begging, and the first and sometimes only memory Olivia has of them is them snickering at her when they thought she couldn't hear them.

At least they haven't had to deal with the Ocelots at all, in any form. Being picked on by Aiden would be some sort of return to normalcy, poor and unwelcome as it would be, and him asking for her autograph would probably be enough to make her die laughing.

(The last she saw any of them was when Lukas had been at the first ceremony, and he hadn't stuck around for long. Olivia’s not sure where he went, but he can take of himself.)

It's not that the attention's bad or anything, but it's so different from what she's used to. It's just another little thing that sticks out, that stays in the back of her mind and reminds her that everything's different now. She's working side by side with Ellegaard these days, for Notch's sake. Well, okay, maybe it's more that she makes suggestions Ellegaard doesn't like and usually ends up fetching items for Ellegaard's original idea instead, but it's the thought that counts.

And despite the order not being anything close to what they said they were, Ellegaard's still in charge of Redstonia and as creative as ever, if only because one thing the command block couldn't give her is her skill with redstone —actually, Olivia’s not sure about that, because it seemed like there was nothing the command block couldn’t do, but she’s not going to try and stir up more anger at Ellegaard— and nobody's stupid enough to try and chase away the most brilliant engineer of their time.

There'll never be anyone as good as Ellegaard, especially when they have her pathetic excuse for an apprentice to compare her to. Olivia doesn't mind that none of them trust her, not really, if only because she hasn't done anything to show that she's a good or halfway decent inventor, and even Ellegaard hardly seems to know what to do with her half the time.

(Her reaction to Olivia leaving to help set things up in the new temple had been almost entirely blank before she'd simply shrugged. She didn't say anything about it, and she didn't have to. They both knew she wouldn't miss anything.)

Olivia sighs as she tugs on one of her ponytails, setting the pencil aside as she stares down at the blueprint, redstone smudges staining the corners and a splatter left on the paper from where her hand had been. The lamps that line the room make for good lighting, but right now the light keeps glinting off of little parts of machines in the corner of her eye. She's got everything set up, even if nothing's really running yet, and at least the basement's cool enough that when she gets them started, nothing should overheat. There are no windows in the little section of it she claimed as her workshop, but there don't need to be. There’ll be plenty of heat from the machines, and light’s not an issue.

It's the first relaxing day they've had since the whole thing began, because mind-numbingly long trips where she constantly flips between worrying and being bored out of her mind don't count, and since she woke up there's been a persistent throbbing in her head that only finally disappeared less than an hour ago while even swallowing is still enough to make her throat ache.

There are still so many little things that need tweaking and adjusting, parts of the city, because that's what the sleepy little town's become as more and more people move and settle near the Order of the Stone, that Jesse will probably want to modify again and will need help working on because Jesse's never happy with whatever they do and Olivia's partly convinced that it's the only way Jesse's trying to stay grounded that's working at all.

What she needs to do is stop procrastinating and actually finish something, even if that something is a pointless little project that's going to be redone anyway.

When she gets to the door, though, she finds Axel coming down the stairs, glancing around.

She spends half a second wondering why she didn’t hear him arrive before remembering that there’s no one to greet him upstairs.

(Not that something like that usually stops Axel from making a loud entrance, but it doesn’t help.)

Jesse's trying to help Ivor settle in a new home, being the only one who wanted to, and Petra's either working with the guards or out trading again. She's been all over the place lately, except for at the temple because she doesn't really seem to know exactly how to handle dealing with Jesse and Olivia when nobody's life is at stake and when they don't want to buy something from her.

The last time Axel was even at the temple, it might not have been more than some designs on paper and a hole in the ground.

And she can't actually remember the last time she saw him, because surprise, surprise, it turns out Ellegaard and Magnus didn't want their cities to be too close together and ended up having them on opposite ends of the map, but the smile she gives lasts for all of about two seconds before she narrows her eyes.

She's tired, but she's not blind, and she's pretty sure he's limping.

It's a good thing she's got a first aid kit. Somewhere. She's sure it's under one invention or other, but at least she has it.

* * *

Getting Axel to actually sit down and let her look at it's harder than it should be, but they're equally stubborn and Olivia has the advantage of not constantly fidgeting to try and take pressure off of her leg.

What she finds is a nasty splotch on his leg, parts of it waxy and other parts entirely brown, the skin around it bright red and certain areas looking like hardened skin that's been peeled off, almost like a scab that's been torn open and left to hang off the tiny bit of skin that's still attached to his leg. The most interesting part of it is the middle, equally splotchy but with bits of pink skin that look almost completely untouched.

If anything, it looks like he tried to take a health potion way too late, though she's not going to bother to ask where he got it. She knows he's not going to tell her, or is going to come up with some silly story that isn't the truth at all.

The scary part is that it means the injury is old enough that a potion could be taken too late, and it's made scarier by the fact that, the more she looks at him, the more Olivia realizes how pale and clammy he is.

(And she knows he was planning on just finding and snatching a kit himself. He wouldn't ask for it, and the way he stiffened when he saw her made it clear he thought she was either with Jesse or back in Redstonia.)

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Olivia glances up at him as she leaves the pants leg rolled up. "Or anybody else?"

"Nah, I was just gonna let it rot off." The eye roll should be a good sign, but it's weak. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Axel, you can't just brush off something like this."

"Right." Another eye roll and an attempt to straighten up that ends with him slumping in his chair, steadying himself by putting a hand on her desk. "How do your hands feel?"

Olivia gives him a flat look before opening the kit.

They don't and he knows it. She can't feel them.

Redstone's a tricky thing. While the ore buzzes and vibrates, pure redstone dust has a lot more of a kick when it's charged, and Olivia's accidentally activated redstone while still holding it plenty of times before.

On the bright side, if there's something else wrong with her hands, she'll probably never know it. At this point, there's no reason to wear gloves, and even if her handwriting gets a bit shaky, or a lot shaky, at times, her hands work well enough that she can still use redstone.

"Don't change the subject." Olivia frowns at the wound as she picks up and opens a small tube of cream, and as she starts to lightly apply it, her grip on his ankle, a good few inches below the burn but only just below a much smaller and paler scar, tightens for a moment as Axel tries to jerk away. In most cases, it wouldn't be a problem for him, but he doesn't keep trying to pull away. "I'm surprised nobody in Boom Town made this worse, the way they're all fighting each other just to fight you."

Not that she doesn't doubt that's how he got it in the first place, if only because she doesn't know where else he'd get a nasty burn, but he doesn't even bother to reply and she's reminded that he's trying to be the king of a city full of maniacs— not that he doesn't fit in with them and seem to be enjoying the title plenty, but even a little burn could be made infinitely worse in a place run by mayhem and madness.

"Axel."

"...maybe it wasn't that red a while ago, but it's not like I paid that much attention."

Olivia swears she can feel a very dull ache in the back of her skull, slowly but steadily crawling back.

" _Axel_."

"What?" He frowns as she raises an eyebrow. "Seriously, relax. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, right." Olivia sets the tube back down before pulling out a bit of wool and a strip of gauze. "That's why I'm doing this right now, right?"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to do it."

Yep, there's that headache again.


	246. Frost

'Let's go explore the coldest biome known to man," he said.

'It'll be fun,' he said.

Magnus was going to kill Soren when they got back home.

And right after that he was moving the temple to somewhere like a beach or a desert. Yeah, sure, places like that still got cold at night, but at least they were warm during the day. Warm enough that Magnus wouldn't have to worry about not feeling his fingers or his toes again, at least. Warm enough that it made sense for people to be there, instead of freezing their asses off in some barren wasteland.

What wasn't thick snow was packed ice, hard and freezing. Stiff and crunchy snow gave way to the occasional rocky and frozen caves, smaller dens burrowing into the sides of snow drifts that blew up against the jagged patches of rock and ice. Spikes stuck out of the ground and beside frozen lakes, some of them twice or even three times as large as the other ones, thin, sharp, and likewise terrible things to grab onto to stay upright. Not that that would be a problem if the snow didn't make it impossible to tell if what was under it was ice or dirt. It was a good thing they hadn't brought any horses along, otherwise they'd never get to standing still.

Then again, maybe that would mean they'd be better about getting in and getting out, instead of staying for far too long just for "research". It was all dirt and ice— what was there even to research in the first place? There wasn't anything here Soren and Ivor couldn't poke at at home, or just wish into existence, and they'd already collected the stupid block they'd come for.

What was even the point of trekking to some stupid hunk of ice that was colder than it had any right to be? It was further away than any other biome they knew of, and it sure as hell wasn't worth the trip when that block of Soren's could just give them everything they wanted.

The trip had been pretty enough, he guessed, but it got boring fast, and not being able to stand still lost its charm by the fifth time the others started cracking up after he hit the ground.

He’d have more than a bruised pride if it wasn’t for his armor, and he was half surprised his helmet wasn’t cracked yet.

It got even less charming when Ivor stopped paying enough attention to Soren and too much attention to him, arguing with him about his hands as he began to squint and mutter about frostbite, even yanking his gloves off before Magnus could snatch them back.

"Magnus, hold still, this needs to be taken care of."

"I told you, I'm fine. Your hands look just like mine." Ivor's gloves were useless in the sense that they didn't actually do anything, the wool stopping just as his fingers began, which meant they didn't hide how red his own skin was. And he was definitely taller than Magnus. Wasn't one of the only good things about being short being the last to freeze, not the first?

(Maybe, but Ivor wasn't slipping and sliding all over the place and making a giant idiot of himself.

He must have been cheating with some stupid potion he didn't want to share with any of them.

Or maybe they all were cheating and just let him trip up again and again because they found it funny.

Magnus didn't care. His hands were warm and shouldn't have worried anybody, the only reason his face hadn’t frozen off was because of his helmet, and he wanted to just get it all over with.)

"At least I can actually feel mine." Magnus could feel his too. They had been plenty toasty in his gloves, and maybe moving them was harder than it should’ve been, but that was just because he’d been slamming them into ice again and again.

"That is 100% frostbite and you know it. Stop being a stubborn ass and let Ivor take care of it." Because of course Ellie couldn't keep her big trap shut and mind her own business. Couldn’t tax that big brain of hers by thinking before she opened her mouth or anything.

"Piss off." Magnus tugged the gloves out of Ivor's grip, shoving them back on as he glared at her. "I don't need to be babysat."

"There's no harm in letting him try, Magnus, even if nothing's wrong." Magnus scowled at Soren, opening his mouth only to get cut off by Gabriel, who’d apparently decided to join in and was on Magnus’s other side.

"Magnus."

Best friends nothing. They weren't just leaving him out to dry; they were ganging up on him.

* * *

One potion later, Magnus was rubbing hands that felt a lot colder than they had before. He could actually make his fingers do more than twitch now, but Ivor was cocky enough about it without Magnus handing him material.

"Next time, tell someone." When Magnus got his gloves back a second time, they were almost entirely crammed with dry wool, barely leaving enough room for his hands. "Or you might not be so lucky."

"Oh, come on, they weren't that bad. Hardly had any frostbite." Magnus got a flat look before Ivor rolled his eyes.

"It's entirely possible that if you'd let it go untreated for too much longer, you wouldn't have been able to use your fingers. Or keep them at all, for that matter. And stop rubbing them, you’ll do more damage."

Magnus stopped struggling with his second glove for a moment, pausing as his brow furrowed before he glanced up at Ivor.

"Wouldn't you just be able to give me a potion to take care of it?"

"Potions aren't some sort of magic cure-alls you can just toss at any problem. They have limits."

"They seem to be doing you plenty. You don't even have real gloves on."

"Neither do you." Magnus’s gloves were meant more to protect his hands from burning than freezing. They kept out the cold fine, and he’d stand by that, but it wasn’t hard to see them trapping the cold in just as easily. The only ones who had decided to put anything wooly on were Soren and Gabriel, and Soren never needed much of an excuse to change outfits. "And, if you simply _must_ know, I don't have to use potions for everything. I have the advantage of not constantly fighting to stay upright."

"I do _not—_ " Magnus cut himself off as he stumbled in his attempt to take a step closer to Ivor, only kept from falling back to the ground by Ivor's quick and tight grip on his arm.

Well, dammit. So much for that.

"You were saying?" Magnus’s arm returned to his side, stiff, as Ivor let go of him.

"Shaddup." Magnus brushed his clothes off as he straightened up, not looking back up at Ivor as he glared down at his armor. "We got the stupid ice, didn't we? Why are we still hanging around?"

It took a moment for Ivor to respond, and Magnus didn’t have to look up to know he was smirking.

"How much attention have you been paying?" Ivor began to walk towards the others, Magnus following suit.

"Enough."

"Clearly not. We were getting ready to leave, but we couldn't do that while we were taking care of this, now could we?"

Magnus sighed before he glared up at Ivor, the glare not holding any actual heat. He knew he’d done this to himself, but just because he resigned himself to his fate didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

"...you're gonna be an ass about this, aren't you?"

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight, I have very bad news for you. I need to make sure there’s no lasting damage to your hands."

"Great, just what I need. More mother-henning."

"Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into these situations, this wouldn't be a problem."

Magnus didn’t respond, snorting as he nudged Ivor in the side with his elbow.

As if.


	247. Introspection

Em's foot taps against the ground, the sound constant and without any of the rhythm coming from the jukeboxes playing inside the temple, as she leans against the wall, grooves in the quartz and stone bricks digging into her back.

The order's had parties before, but, at least for as long as Em's been with them, never inside the temple. They've always been big celebrations somewhere near the center of the city, with more formality than any of them really care for. Festivals are different, louder and faster and more enjoyable, but those have always been in the city too.

But after everything they did, they've got a few friends. It makes sense that they'd want to at least try and invite them over, and not just shove them into the middle of a city and make some sort of spectacle or show out of them.

(Almost everybody said yes, save for three people that Em has a feeling declined only because of the "reformed" serial killer they've had lurking in their basement for weeks. She can't blame them. The cat that always seems to be staring at people from behind some corner or other is bad enough.)

The city's quiet, a stark difference from the constant bustle coming from behind the entrance, torches with flames that flicker and sway in the wind lighting up every nook and cranny. When she looks up, she can still see the light out of the corner of her eyes, the streets looking like they're made of lava and the houses giant veins of glowstone.

There are no clouds to cover the moon, full and bright against the purples and blues that surround it. There are overlapping and winding streams of stars lining the horizon and stretching across the sky, fading the closer they get to the moon, replaced by clusters of stars.

Em guesses it's an alright night. She's certainly seen worse. She just can't really bring herself to think much of it beyond that.

The tapping stops for a moment before she sighs, raising a hand to rub the bridge of her nose.

She's tired.

She doesn't know why.

There's an ache, somewhere, but she can't pin it down.

What does she have to complain about?

Life at the temple's good. The day's been an easy one, as fun as any other day. It hasn't been dull or boring, just a little less action packed than usual. She helped set up the tables and move whatever inventions Olivia had wanted moved this time. It's not like she did anything to injure herself.

But that doesn't change the fact that there's an ache, one that persists. It's like there's a gaping hole somewhere inside, somewhere she can't reach, and Em's not one for introspection. All that matters is that it hurts, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

Needless to say, she doesn't like it.

Her hand falls back to her side just as the doors slide open.

Jesse steps out of them as Em straightens up, the several small ticks that come from inside the wall almost hard to hear under the whistling of the wind and the brief echo made by the sounds of the party that trickle out with her before she moves to stand next to Em.

There's a silence where Em isn't really sure if she's supposed to say anything or just let it lie, but she doesn't have to wonder for long.

News flash: the order, and Jesse especially as Em's come to find out, don't do comfortable silences. Not for everything, at least, and they're quick to get rid of uncomfortable ones.

"Why are you out here?" Jesse’s head tilts to the side as she looks up at Em. "I thought you'd want to be inside. They’re going over how we helped fix the games."

Now that she thinks about it, maybe she does know why she feels so tired. Sort of.

" _You_ did. I was part of the problem. Bought my days, straight from hell." She gives a huff that's half a laugh and followed by a lopsided smile that takes more force than it should to make. "Figure working with you guys is my way of making up for that. Why aren't you inside?"

"A little too crowded right now. It's not like I don't know the story." Jesse gives a light shrug, looking from her to the moon. "And hey, you just wanted what the rest of us did. You don't have to 'make up' for anything."

She has no idea how Jesse can say that with a straight face.

Jesse saved everybody.

Em was willing to keep Jesse and her friends trapped if it meant getting out herself.

The whole point of the games was killing other people to win, and it still is. It wasn't anything personal.

It's just, now that she's lived a few months without having to mine or die, what she did doesn't seem as justified as it did back then. She was kind of a jerk. A pretty big one, really.

"I was never getting out of there on my own."

"You guys would have worked together, eventually. We just sped things up."

"Do you think any of us would've gone through with it if you hadn't been the one behind it? 'The new Tim'?" Em raises an eyebrow before shaking her head, arms crossing across her chest. Her shirt scratches against the rougher parts of the wall as her shoulders slump. "It's not like everybody accepted it, at first, being stolen and forced to play. People tried teaming up, but they'd get scared and back out, or get cut down before they could do anything."

"...by the gladiators?"

"Yeah." By the time Em had gotten there, there weren't many people left who hadn't given up. Still, she remembered taking down more than a few rule breakers. "People stopped trying after a while."

Jesse doesn't say anything about that and Em doesn't look back down at her.

She doesn't want to be that person again.

It was never like she enjoyed it, none of them did.

...maybe at first, she'd gotten some sort of power-thrill from it. They were all trapped and were never getting out, but gladiators didn't die. They were able to do things competitors weren't, and it was a nice change of pace.

The Old Builders only had a few qualities in mind when it came to snatching gladiators; big, strong, and dumb. Dumb enough, at least, because the people who were the first two were almost always treated as the third.

Giving them a chance to be the ones talking down to people was pretty tempting, especially because they didn't really have a choice.

Em had known since she was a little girl that she wasn't going to be anything but a farmer, and her body type reflected that. At best, maybe she could've been a blacksmith, but everyone in her family had been farmers. There'd never really been a choice there either.

That thrill died when she did and found out how much it hurt.

(Nobody in the order knows how she got "demoted", and if she has her way, it'll stay like that. At least if she'd been trying to help somebody or do something heroic, it'd have some sort of purpose. Dying because she just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and too close to too much TNT wasn't all that impressive.)

Em's hands twitch as Jesse nudges her in the side, bringing her back to reality. When she looks down, her gaze is met by eyes far too big than they have any right to be and a pout that's not quite a pout and not quite a frown.

"Aw, come on, I didn't mean to bring you down. Smile? Please?"

For one thing, it's not fair for her to try and pull that, especially because it's working.

"...stop it." Em shifts on her feet, leaning a bit away from Jesse as she eyes her, lips twitching upwards anyway. "You— just stop it."

Jesse does, giving a grin nothing short of smug as she looks back up and chuckles.

"It worked on Facemeat too."

Em rolls her eyes, smiling.

"Well, there you go. You've just uncovered the universal weakness of all gladiators: cute."

She doesn't really know about the others; they always worked more in silence, whether it was comfortable or not, and somehow she gets the feeling it was even more like that after it became clear that gladiators could be killed just like anybody else, but it gets the reaction it's supposed to.

"Cute?" Jesse puts a hand on her chest, the smile that worms its way onto her face ruining the indignant expression. She tilts her head back slightly, nose in the air and voice just haughty enough to be a good mimic of some of the more "upper class" people they've met. "I'm the mighty leader of the Order of the Stone. I'm not cute."

"Sorry mighty leader, but you either have to be the world's biggest dork or ridiculously cute to be able to pull off overalls." Em's grin grows as she uncrosses her arms to ruffle Jesse's hair, her hand quickly batted away. "In your case, you just happen to be both."

"Lucky me." Jesse smiles even as she says it, folding her hands behind her head as she relaxes against the wall.


	248. Simmering

Olivia's goggles hit the wall before her helmet does, Olivia's fingers curled into fists as the items bounce off the stone and land on the carpet. She doesn't bother to flip the lever that's connected to the lamps that are scattered about the ceiling in a checkered pattern before she slides to a sitting position, back against the closed door as she glares at the inventions around her. Fire from the furnaces that line one side of the room illuminate the machinery plenty. Her eyes are uncomfortable and itchy, and she ignores how blurry her vision gets as she brushes her hand through her hair, yanking out the ties and tossing them aside.

She can hear Axel, upstairs, doing what sounds like mangling what's left of their best training dummies.

Another dead end.

Maybe they'd been lucky enough to find the underground village in the first place, but what good did it do them if it left them with as many questions as they'd had before?

She'd been hopeful, stupidly hopeful, when the settlement had turned out to have a Nether portal they'd tried to hide.

There had been nothing but netherrack and a mushroom farm, similarly underground what sounded like a sea of lava and a nest of Magma Cubes, and only a block above bedrock, the farm their only reliable source of food and something they weren't all too happy to have outsiders know about.

She and Axel had been immediately evicted, heroes or not, and had given up whatever diamonds they had on them at the time as an apology.

That meant going back to the temple to lick their wounds before they went on another trip, though this time they were lucky enough that there weren't any issues while they were gone. It was a shorter trip, taking up two days instead of a week, and it'd been just as useful.

And she knows what the whispers that have started circulating through the city are about, she knows they've gone from asking about why she and Axel aren't in their respective cities to murmuring about where they think the bodies are hidden, hissing that they knew it, that the Order of the Stone is crooked no matter who's in it.

They've tried telling people that Jesse and Petra are missing, that they honestly don't know where they are, but the Order's reputation in regards to honest has been more than a little tarnished lately.

(If they find Soren, who's just as frustratingly impossible to find, Olivia's going to kill him.)

Because right, clearly they each want to rule two cities. Because yeah, Olivia isn't this close to just letting Calvin do everything so she can stop wearing herself thin. Because it's not like that's what Ellegaard did, when she didn't care about her missing friends.

Because naturally she's expected to stay and lead a city that doesn't need or want her. She's not Ellegaard, after all.

Not good enough.

Never good enough.

She's sick of it.

What are they supposed to say? They could only hide it for so long; people didn't waste any time in noticing how Olivia and Axel were the only ones coming in and out of the city, and only rarely at that. No one liked what they heard, and they still don't, but that doesn't change that there's only one answer Olivia can give them.

The amulet can't find them. They have no idea where they could be. The End's flooded, and Olivia has no idea why they'd be hiding in the first place, especially in somewhere like the Nether.

Not that it sounds like Jesse or Petra to just up and disappear for no good reason, and it doesn't slip by Olivia that Ivor's gone missing too.

Ivor, who they all vouched for. Ivor, who Jesse defended regularly, whose house _Jesse_ chose to protect. Ivor, who had sworn he was a changed man and that he'd behave himself.

Even if he's innocent, because potions can only do so much if you've been ambushed and Ivor doesn't seem the type to survive long in all out fistfight, then he's just as likely to be dead as the others.

(They haven’t seen anything of Aiden or the other “Blaze Rods” since then either, and Olivia hopes, for their sakes, that it’s unrelated.)

They don't know if there's something out there that can block the amulet, and they both refuse to listen to the other possibility both Magnus and Gabriel have brought up, if there's a chance that they're not in the Nether or the End and still somehow alive.

Jesse's survived crazy things before.

They gave the area around the city a thorough combing when they first realized Petra and Jesse were missing, and they’d found no blood, no signs of a struggle, nothing. But that doesn’t mean anything, does it, when there’s an entire world out there to search?

Maybe they're stupid, for checking the Nether first, for focusing there, but at the time it made sense. Now it just seems ridiculous, it all does, as the days drag on and as every lead takes them to nothing each and every time. They don't have fans so much as people who tolerate them, and half of them don't even seem up to that.

Ivor's house has been entirely removed, the lava cleaned up and whatever hole it left behind filled in and covered up like nothing happened. Olivia doesn't know who did it, only that it happened during their trip to the Far Lands, their longest trip yet and the biggest waste of time.

No part of the temple's been torn down yet, but it's anybody's guess how long that'll last with how rare they're actually there, even with the city guard supposedly on their side.

They don't seem to catch the vandalism though, the stuff that's in plain sight, and Olivia has no idea if that's because they've given up or if they sympathize with everybody else.

Words written on the walls, ink and paint scrawled on the doors, words spat at them when people think they can't be heard, Olivia knows all too well what they think.

(At least Axel can always go to Boom Town to blow off steam. Her inventions have only been leaving Olivia more and more stressed.)

She's been called a dictator five times already today, and it's only noon.


	249. Abandon

Cassie is used to the dark. Torches only burn for so long, and it's easier to think if her eyes are shut.

All she can do is think.

Not that she resigned herself to something so monotonous at first, not after being left to rot in a trap she should've been more than prepared and able to escape from. Acceptance was hardly the first thing to cross her mind.

She raged, she screamed —but not too loud, because Winslow's ears are delicate and the last thing she wants to do is upset him—, she plotted and swore vengeance and thought up every plan possible for escaping and getting revenge. But enough got to be enough, and any rage she had isn't gone so much as simmering as best it can, spiking now and then as she finds more and more motions, more and more basic functions, painful or difficult. She doesn't shiver, even with her body lying on the small dirt platform, because at this point, it might actually be warmer than her.

After all, obsidian isn't known for generating heat where there isn't any, and part of her thinks that her outfit may be better at keeping the cold in than it is at keeping it out.

There's no water down here, and all of the fish she had has long since gone to Winslow, his little body as bony as her own, the skin sticking to and almost hanging off his bones. The food would just be wasted on her and she knows it.

(He's stopped lying on her, instead taking to resting against her side most times, seeing as how he has nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, and she's not sure how much of that is because of how uncomfortable her bones digging into him must be and how much of it is the muffled hisses she makes when he does. It's not his fault that it hurts, but she hates driving him away. She can't even pet him, the times she's conscious enough to actually think about it.)

Part of the reason she hasn't flung herself off the edge is that moving hurts. Every breath is excruciating, somewhere between a wheeze and a hiss, and her body's displeased and pained no matter what she does or doesn't do.

Not that it's the only thing displeased with her, of course. She hasn't made many friends, and certainly not in her own mind.

Voices that don't exist echo off the walls, taunting her. Voices that used to exist are louder and just as common, only they scream and cry. They beg and curse and shout, but they don't mock her, and sometimes they're hushed in a way that's even louder, some of them whispering and hissing so quietly they can't really be heard above the endermites.

(She's given up on responding, on making threats and pleas. They can't help her, and if they could, why would they want to? They'd far more likely strangle her, or find a way to slowly kill her.

...actually, that might be what they're already doing. It would certainly explain a lot, because starvation's not supposed to be a way to go all on its own, but this rotten world has never played by rules that make sense. It's only fitting that it kills her by being the same stupid little world she was so desperate to get out of.)

She thinks she's about to drift back to sleep, or whatever twisted version she's been getting. Her dreams have gone from being about revenge to simply freedom and, lately, the much more modest but no more attainable goal of _survival_.

And then there's a sound, a clunk of some sort that's mechanical, and it's a new one, and it makes her want to lift her head almost as much as Winslow nuzzling her hand does. It's not just the sound that interests her, though, so much as the sudden blinding presence that stabs and seeps through her eyelids, making her open her eyes for the first time in what must be a week, maybe two.

She sees _light_ , real actual sunlight, the first she's seen in what must be months, and she knows it just her mind. It’s like the faint hum and extremely faint glow of the portal, taunting. It's not actual bits of dirt falling from the surface and onto her, because there's no way to get to the surface. The voice that accompanies the light is familiar, too familiar, and even if she can't pin it down, it's not one of the ones that Cassie can remember screaming or taunting her. It's a soft voice, gentle, and it feels like somebody's grabbing her, but she can't fight back.

Why should she fight back against a hallucination?

She can't even see whatever new monster her mind's come up with, the light too bright even as she ends up in the shadow the fake figure casts, the shadow she can't help but squint in and that still make her see nothing but blurs.

Something shines, something familiar, but anyone could wear armor and she can't see them well enough in the first place to know why it would be so familiar. It's just the product of her imagination; it could be any armor that she's seen before. Shadows begin to creep in, starting along the edges of her vision and steadily making their way to the center, blocking out the light.

There's a burst of pain, of everything aching and screaming at her to stop moving even though she can't do anything, as she's pulled, slowly, to her feet, the ringing in her ears broken only by the sound of Winslow's meowing, and by the time she realizes it might be real after all, it's far too late to react. Her axe slips out of her fingers, heavier than it should be, the blade hitting the platform first with a clang, and it's only because Winslow only meows again that she knows it didn't hit him. Whoever's holding onto her doesn't so much as pause, their grip steady.

All she can bring herself to do is hope they don't hurt him before her eyes slide shut.


	250. Terracotta

Surprisingly enough, everyone in the order had become at least somewhat fond of Ivor. It turned out that it was hard not to when he'd saved their lives on multiple accounts, and far more than he'd ever endangered him.

He'd screwed up, but there wasn't really any doubt he was trying to make up for that in any way he could.

After a few months, everyone had ended up under his care for some injury or other, and Lukas knew he'd saved his life more times than he could count when they were lost in the portal network.

It was only natural that they'd want to repay the favor, but something as basic as just saving him in return didn't seem to really do anything any justice. They'd save anybody if they could— it was only right to help someone who needed it. And that was alright, but they could do better. It just meant they had to go the extra meter.

A party sounded simple enough, and there was a simple enough excuse they were all banking on.

There was only one problem.

None of them had any idea what his birthday was.

And according to Ivor, he honestly couldn't remember.

After all their time apart, it turned out that Gabriel and Magnus had also forgotten.

Not that little details like these stopped them for long. It wasn't hard to find something to celebrate, after all, and it'd been almost a year since they'd returned from the portal network. It was as good a reason as any to throw a party, and it wasn't like they hadn't told Ivor ahead of time that they were going to be celebrating their return.

...they'd just already told each other what they were getting them and conveniently left Ivor in the dark about the presents entirely.

It hadn't even been hard to find a to-do list of things he was going to go adventuring for.

Okay, fine, so they went behind his back to get it, but the list had been left out in the open on his desk while Ivor had been shopping for supplies with Petra and Jesse. Any of them could've easily stumbled across it. Lukas wasn't sure if they'd put the original back exactly where he'd left it, having been the one to write down and keep a copy for the group, something easier said than done with the hasty scrawl it'd all been written in, but Ivor didn't seem any the wiser when he returned, and once everyone was sure he'd locked himself away in his lab, they went over said copy.

Jesse jumped on being the one to hunt down and buy the otherwise unspecified exploration map that was at the top of the list, Petra almost as quick when she called dibs on putting together and enchanting the sword right below it. The almost obscene amounts of redstone and TNT further down the list had Olivia suspicious and excited Axel, respectively, leaving Lukas to gather sixteen entire stacks of glazed terracotta, each stack a different color.

Lukas wouldn't have thought Ivor to be the building type, but then again, he knew things about Ivor now that he never would've expected before.

He just wished he knew what glazed terracotta was. It was some sort of block, and it came in different colors, which meant it had to be more for building and decoration, but he didn't even know what the stuff looked like.

That was where Nell came in.

Apparently, playing in the games meant getting acquainted with all sorts of people, for better or worse, and one of the friends she'd kept now that they'd been freed from the games had mentioned something about glazed terracotta the last time they met.

Lukas glanced away from the trees to Nell, who was moving at a slow pace and glancing around.

He was beginning to think that Nell didn't really know either. Not that she'd lied to him on purpose, but...

(This was the same person who wished a woman a happy birthday right after explaining that she knew her because she'd scooped Nell's eyes out before. It wasn't like she wasn't all there so much as what she had was all mixed up and shaken.)

It was possible she'd gotten a few names mixed around.

After everything, he couldn't really blame her, but he wished she'd just admit it and stop trying to pretend to know something she didn't, especially with the way the winter wonderland they'd wandered into had the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

Snow was blown off of the branches and onto the little cobble path, sticking to the ice or joining the small pitches of snow that swirled about and spun with each gust. It was pretty, but less nice to see were the giant paw prints that were frozen into the harder layers of snow, the ones that clung to the base of trees and trailed along the sides of the stony hills that broke past the slush every now and then.

A yelp escaped Lukas as he rammed into Nell, who'd gone from walking slowly to entirely still, nearly losing his footing as his boots slid on a thin sheet of ice. Her shoulder, bonier than it looked, hit his mouth, his jaw aching as he struggled to stay upright, Nell nearly jumping away from him as one of her hands went to the offending shoulder.

"Dude! Not cool." Nell looked away from him, tilting her head to eye her shoulder while Lukas rubbed his jaw with a hand. "You can't just go around biting people like that. You could've given me rabies or something!"

He blinked at her as his hand went still, fingers twitching as he lowered it. He opened his mouth before shutting it, brow furrowing as he gave a huff.

“Yes. I might have given you rabies. But in my defense, that’s ridiculous and I didn’t.” Unlike him, Nell didn't miss a beat.

"How do you know?"

He was seriously having this conversation, wasn't he? This was really something they were debating? There weren't even any teeth marks.

"I didn't actually bite you. And come on, do I look like I have rabies to you?" Lukas raised an eyebrow as Nell studied her shoes. "What, seriously?"

"Sorry dude." Nell gave a somewhat sheepish smile as she shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. "You seem just a little too neat. Not to judge, but I mean, who knows what you could or couldn't have."

Lukas's fingers curled into fists before they relaxed, a sigh escaping him as he dragged a hand down his face.

( _Too neat_ , she said. Yeah right. How long did she spend in front of a mirror every morning?)

"Okay, fine." The huff he gave almost sounded like half a laugh as he rolled his eyes. "If you end up foaming at the mouth, I'll apologize later."

"Thanks."

Even after giving a wide, toothy smile, Nell didn't move.

"Why'd you stop?"

The beads of her bracelet clicked as she pointed to the side, where the path continued, growing smaller as it reached the top of a small, snowy hill. And at the top...

It was... well, it was something. Lukas was just having the hardest time figuring out exactly what. It looked like some sort of tunnel entrance, stairs that led underground shielded by a small structure made of blocks that shined in the sunlight, ice frozen to the edges and slowly dripping onto the otherwise dry ground below it. The arrangement made an odd sort of pattern that Lukas had only ever seen accomplished in paintings, the blocks covered in detailed swirls and winding lines that seemed to continue flawlessly where the blocks themselves connected.

"...oh."


	251. Green (Em/Nell)

Nell’s, in her opinion, a fairly simple person.

So when she lies awake in bed, it’s only fitting that she has simple thoughts.

(Well, simple enough. The other person lying beside her complicates things and makes her train of thought do all sorts of wacky turns and twists, but it’s a good kind of complicated.)

Just a simple person with simple thoughts about how nice Em’s eyes are and how good she is at cuddling. Simple stuff.

Her own blue eyes are fine and all, sure, totally, but they’re just… missing something. They don’t have the spark Em’s do.

She saw her eyes plenty before, sure, but Nell doesn’t think she ever realized just how nice they looked until after the Old Builders had been overthrown and Em stopped constantly glaring or scowling. It’s a lot easier to look at somebody and appreciate how they look when they smile more, and joining the Order’s helped Em’s temper. More than just getting away from constantly having to die did, at least.

(And it’s a lot easier to think about how impossibly cute somebody is after kissing them. Em’s sliced Nell’s spine in half before, and with just a shovel; she could still totally wreck her and Nell has no idea how or why Em can be so cute, but she’s not complaining.)

There are times when she looks at those eyes and feels like a total sap, because she can’t imagine being any happier and all she wants to do is hold her close and spend the rest of the day cuddling. Or go out and do something fun together, like swim until the sun’s gone down, even if Em’s still not as used to the water as Nell is. Nell’s got a bit of a head start, and Em’s getting better.

And there are times when Nell wakes up and sees those eyes, and all she can hear is her own scream ringing in her ears, the sickly feeling as she falls to bubbling lava, the heat getting closer and closer…

But she doesn’t hold that against Em, no more than she does any of her other nightmares, and definitely not as much as Em holds it against herself. Em’s always there to comfort her, and it’s not like Nell can’t understand what kind of place she was in during the games. Everybody else was just as desperate to go home.

Nell’s woken up once or twice to Em having a nightmare instead, to being held both near and tight while Em hisses apologies she doesn’t know later that she said, to Em’s breath growing quick and fast while her heart beats like a drum, but usually all she needs to calm back down is a few minutes of Nell trying to hold onto her as best she can while telling Em that it’s not her fault. Em could crush her or shove her away or think Nell’s attacking her, and instead she’s sorry.

Nell would have to be pretty stupid to think Em doesn’t feel guilty.

And yeah, okay, she’ll be the first to admit that she knows she’s not all there, or not as much as she could be, but she’s not stupid.

Those eyes are so much better to look at, a nice dark green, than the often bloodstained and worn bodysuits ever were, the hand that pulls her closer so much warmer and gentler than the ones that would wrap around her neck or yank her closer to a sword. They’re nice to look at when they’re closed too, when Em’s relaxed or really comfortable.

Because hey, that’s something she does now. She actually chills.

Nell’s not a stranger to pain, but who is? Nobody can say they’ve never been hurt. There’s no point in dwelling on something like that; it’s a quick and easy downer, but it doesn’t really do much besides that, and Nell’s not really a fan of being a total bummer. It’s too easy and doesn’t help anybody.

She’s not as familiar when it comes to being this close with somebody else, though. That’s something she wants to get better at, something that’s new and different and something that could actually help both of them.

Maybe she’d have been better at it years ago, before the games, but she’s not that person anymore and all she knows for sure is how much she doesn’t want to screw this up.

And for every bit that Em _could_ scare her, could be intimidating and nasty, Nell trusts her not to. A little paranoia’s expected, but Em trusts her enough to sleep in the same room, in the same bed as her, even knowing there’s a chance that Nell’ll freak out and wake her up at some point in the night. Em hasn’t told her yet to get lost or to leave, that she’s making things awkward or uncomfortable. That much trust’s a big step for somebody who used to be super tense and stressed all the time. The least Nell can do is return the favor, and why wouldn’t she?

Nell’s lips twitch into a smile as the arm around her waist pulls her closer, her head nearly under Em’s chin, Em muttering something as her closed eyes squeeze tighter.

(And now she gets the urge to kiss Em silly when she’s extra cute like this, but her poor neck is already covered is dark pink and red spots and the last thing she needs is to be woken up. That’s the cool thing about being free like this; even if some crazy emergency pops up, and now that Em’s part of the Order that happens every now and then, they’ll always have time later. They have all the time in the world, if they want, and nobody can take that from them.)

Being around her makes Nell feel safe, above everything else. Wanted. Even _needed_ , and that’s something she never expected.

But she’s not going to mess this up if she has anything to say about it.


	252. Garden (Jesse/Petra)

Petra loves Jesse.

Really, she does.

That's why she keeps telling herself that so she doesn't murder her.

Because an awful lot of people rely on Jesse, who's more important to the Order and to their friends as a whole, and she's one of the brightest things in Petra's life, so strangling her isn't exactly an ideal outcome.

Yet.

She's not sure if she'll feel the same way about it in a few more minutes.

They were up before the sun even began to rise, and it wasn't until long after it had set that they'd stumbled through the door, trudged through the halls, and collapsed into bed. They'd spent most of the day at a nearby ravine, most of it stripped of resources save for where a lava river covered what had turned out to be a diamond vein. Removing the lava with buckets and blocking it off had been a pain, but it was worth it. Afterwards, they'd taken out several creeper and spider nests, and they'd finished with hours of training with different weapons. It wasn't everyday they practiced in more enclosed environments.

Petra's used to long days, days of nothing but walking or hunting or mining, depending on how far her client is and what they want, but that doesn't make long days full of training and sparring and mining easy. If anything, it should've given Jesse a harder time, because Jesse's always had something resembling a stable sleep schedule while Petra just crashes when she has to, and she should be passed out by now.

(Petra knows being exhausted means nightmares are less likely, but she's at the point where nightmares are the least of her worries right now.)

They both should be, but they're not, and that's part of the problem.

They're both exhausted, under several large and heavy blankets that make moving very undesirable, Jesse's giggling about something she won't tell Petra, and she's probably going to end up smothered with a pillow because she's keeping Petra up. The point is, Petra knows this won't end well.

She asks anyways, though, so that's on her.

"Jesse, I'm not asking again. _What_?" Jesse almost can't get the words out, giggling getting worse with each one.

"I have a very big crush on you, but sadly I am only a little bug and you are a garden." Jesse's grin gets impossibly wide, moonlight that makes it through the gap in the curtains highlighting a sliver of her mouth, and Petra has to resist pointing out that they've been dating for months.

She wonders, for a moment, how comfortable Jesse would find the floor, before remembering that her arms are jello and that rolling her eyes and groaning is easier.

(It's her room. She could just kick her out. She's allowed to do that, right? The only reason they're in hers and not Jesse's is because hers is closer to the stairs than Jesse's, but that doesn't change that it's still her room.)

"You are _such_ a dork." Her head falls back onto the pillow, which is far too soft and tempting for her to be awake and having this conversation, but here they are. She doesn't even want to know how long Jesse's been thinking that one up, and she's not going to ask.

"You love it." Jesse's grip on her waist tightens, the words nearly sung and far too cheery for how late it is. Really, Jesse's far too cheery in general, but she could at least have the grace to sound tired.

(Jesse is not graceful, in any form. She can't dance without tripping over her own two feet, and Petra doesn't know why she expects Jesse to have any sort of finesse here, when being tired only makes her all the more goofy and infuriatingly adorable. Petra has no idea why it's endearing; she only knows that it's not supposed to be.)

"Don't ask me why." Petra groans again in response, her own grip on Jesse tightening as she tugs on the lowest fleecy blanket with a hand. Granted, the following kiss to her cheek stops her from yanking it over her head, but she doesn't want to think about how she's been kept up for a cheesy maybe pick-up line that Jesse should really know better than to use.

"You know you do." Jesse nuzzles her, fingers tracing the side of one of Petra's arms like she traced the swirls in the acacia trees that surrounded the ravine, and Petra's torn between wondering how she can be so perky and just giving up.

Because if she doesn't get to sleep soon, she'll probably end up catching lag tomorrow or Jesse's really going to end up sleeping on the floor.

Or she could just crawl her way back to her room and maybe get some sleep herself. She has too much energy anyways.

"Shh." Petra tries to relax, resisting the urge to jab Jesse to help her get the point.

"Even if I'm only a little bug and you're a grumpy garden." Petra's free hand clutches the blankets as Jesse's snickering gets louder again.

This time, Petra does jab her, shifting to lightly nudge Jesse's head as best as she can with her shoulder as she shuts her eyes.

" _Shh_." Forget the floor; she's going to throw her to the wolves if she has to. Maybe that'll remind her that normal people who aren't Jesse get grumpy if their girlfriend, adorable dork with a terrible sense of humor or not, keeps them up. Petra's learned that Jesse doesn't work that way, if only because that'd make too much sense. Jesse either gets too drowsy to do anything more than cuddle or too hyper to not drive Petra up the wall. The lack of breakfast and dinner, as well as the rushed excuse for lunch, probably doesn't help either of them.

Jesse giggles again before she quiets down, shifting closer to Petra after several moments before her breathing finally starts to slow and even out.

It’s with a small sigh that Petra wraps her other arm around her, shoulders relaxing as she does.


	253. Size

A light breeze tugs at Jesse’s hair, blowing about leaves as they fall from the trees that line the road. His armor protects him from most of the chill, and no clouds cover the sun, light bouncing off of the colorful tightly pulled wool and cotton awnings that stand above the market, people already setting up shop and more people milling about from stall to stall.

Jesse can appreciate a good morning.

He can appreciate a fun trip into the ever growing market.

He has more trouble appreciating Lukas and Aiden trudging, Lukas to his left and Aiden sticking close by on his right, like they’re heading to their own execution.

Jesse knows that both of them would probably rather be anywhere else, but this is the first day all week it hasn’t been insanely windy, and Jesse knows it’ll kick back up soon if they don’t act fast enough. The problem there is that he also knows neither of them would mind not going shopping altogether, but that’s not an option.

It just doesn’t look comfortable, the way Aiden’s clothes hang off of him like he’s a skeleton or the way Lukas’s dig into his skin and make him shift and tug at them constantly.

It’d be one thing if Aiden liked baggy clothing, or if Lukas didn’t mind ones that didn’t hide his body, but it hasn’t been hard for Jesse to see just how the clothes bug them. Lukas pulls constantly on his sleeves and hardly ever goes without his jacket, a hand now almost always fidgeting with the hem of his shirt when he does, and Aiden balls the looser parts of his clothes up when he has nothing else to do, pulling his clothes closer to his skin, and it always seems like he’s pulling up or trying to fasten something.

(Lukas’s clothes hardly show off any of his body, and it’s not like Aiden’s drowning in his, but that doesn’t seem to be the way they see things. Saying that they’re hypersensitive about the way they look in their clothes is an understatement. Neither of them is egotistical, exactly; after all, neither of them is selfish. They don’t only think of themselves. They just both seem to think that everybody’s always watching them.

…granted, Lukas became part of the order right as their fame kicked back up, when they returned home, Aiden spent months in Sky City being public enemy number one, and gossip still tends to run wild…

It’s not like their behavior isn’t understandable, to a point; Jesse just hates that it is.)

And Jesse knows they’d each handle this on their own, sooner or later, but he also knows how they’d do it: they’d slip away either early or late, duck into a store, grab the first clothes they could, pay, and book it back to the temple while praying no one saw them.

If there’s one thing Jesse refuses to stand by and let happen, it’s have either of them make their bodies become something to be ashamed about.

* * *

 

He isn’t expecting the trouble they have at the first stall, though. Or the next one. Or the one after that. Or the one after that one.

It’s at the sixth, or maybe seventh, stall that Lukas actually picks some clothes, and Jesse has a sneaking suspicion it’s because it took that many stalls for him to realize Jesse’s serious about this and not going to give up just because he and Aiden are being difficult.

Jesse takes more of a passing glance at them than anything as Lukas walks by him, because even if he is serious about taking all day if they have to, progress is still progress, before narrowing his eyes as he spots the tag.

Sure enough, the two pairs of jeans and jacket beneath the shirt have tags with similarly odd numbers.

 “Won’t those feel tight?” Lukas freezes, his face flushing at the question, and despite the words being little more than murmured, he glances around them, the woman behind the stall seemingly busy as she sets out more outfits. Aiden’s lurking more by the corner, right under the hanging edge of the awning, and he’s gone from eyeing the clothes on display to eyeing the two of them from out of the corner of his eye.

Lukas’s cheeks are still a bright pink as he gives a weak chuckle, smile similarly off.

“…Jesse, I think I know what size my clothes should be.” There’s some sort of tone behind the words, not quite sharp but with an edge that Lukas usually saves for being at the end of his rope, and Jesse knows it’s going to be a long day.

“I’m not saying you don’t.” He just thinks Lukas is having trouble remembering the whole reason he’s getting new clothes is because what used to fit isn’t going to fit as well as it used to. “But you also know what clothes won’t fit. Lukas, these are smaller than the ones you have on now!”

“They’ll fit fine.” Lukas’s strained smile falters as Jesse raises an eyebrow. “…alright, so maybe they’ll be a little snug.”

‘A little snug’ meaning that they’ll drive Lukas nuts and have him toying with them and twitching just like his old clothes.

“…Lukas, just get something that’ll fit. There’s nothing wrong if it’s a little baggy.” Lukas opens his mouth to reply, but he can’t seem to get anything out, face burning an even darker shade of red before he gives a short nod and turns away.

Oh yeah. It’s gonna be a _long_ day.

* * *

 

When they leave the last stall, the new clothes are marginally better than the older ones. Marginally.

Progress is still progress.

(So it’s a mantra at this point. So what? Jesse’s still going to cling to it.)

Lukas and Aiden both walk like they’ve got wolves nipping at their heels, and not for the first time Jesse’s thankful that the Order doesn’t get as much fanfare in public anymore, if only because visiting the stalls was more painful than it had any right to be.

The tailor, though, the tailor is even worse. They only visit one, the best in the city and somebody whose work Jesse’s liked before, but it’s worse than a dozen more stalls would’ve been.

Because now Aiden and Lukas have gone entirely silent, and Jesse’s comments, answers to the tailor, and attempted conversations with Lukas and Aiden result in either or both of them giving smiles that could pass as grimaces, followed by definite grimaces when it gets to the actual measurements.

They should be happy that they’re getting clothes that’ll fit them better, but it’s been a while since Jesse’s seen Lukas freeze up the way he does when he reads the measurements as the tailor writes them down, and if Aiden’s not twitching, he’s gone stock still with his eyes switching between Jesse and the exit.

For Notch’s sake, it’s clothes shopping, not a punishment.

And once it’s all done, they move even faster out of the shop, waiting outside as Jesse sets up a time for the clothes to be delivered.

He doesn’t have any doubt he’ll be playing damage control when they get back to the temple.


	254. Paperwork

Quills scratch against paper in tandem, interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the logs slowly burning in the fireplace. Orange and red flames have already sucked up most of the fuel, leaving the dark embers to give a pathetic attempt at making more fire every now and then as they begin to cool on the ash covered bricks.

Petra and Lukas are sitting side by side, Lukas propping his head up with a hand as he writes, elbow resting beside several large and rolled up blueprints that are also lying on the desk, while Petra clutches her hair and tugs lightly on it with a hand as she stares down at her quill.

Her friends mean the world to her, she reminds herself. She never had a team before them.

They're there for her whenever she needs them, especially when she least expects it. It's different from how things used to be, but that doesn't mean it's bad.

She wouldn't give them up for anything.

That being said...

Being with said team means paperwork.

Right now, that feels like a pretty big deal breaker.

Petra's hand goes back to holding the scroll open and straight as she glares down at the desk, other hand still moving.

There's nothing she hates more than paperwork. She'll gladly go toe to toe with a hundred cave spiders if it means never having to fill out or look over another sheet.

And people think that because she was a full-time trader, she should be used to this, but she’s not.

The trades she did were either small or entirely black market, and the whole point of the second option was to keep things _off_ the books. Petra had been more of a mercenary than a trader, and no official stall or wagon meant that she never needed to keep logs even in the bigger cities.

She's not really a mercenary, anymore, though. She's a hero, which she's liking a lot more than she thought she ever would, even if it means black market deals are out of the question now, and she's in charge of the city's guard, which is fine and all except for the times when incidents happen and paperwork pops up. Every now and then, she has to do more than just sign off another stack of already completed paper, and that's fine. She can't blame the captain of the guard for not being able to handle everything all the time.

(This isn't a cry for help, though, so much as it is him chucking it at her and saying 'Your problem now'. Not that Petra blames him, because who the hell would be stupid enough to light something anywhere near a firework stand in the first place and she has no idea where the pounds of butter even came from, but she feels she has a right to resent being at the top of the totem pole. Whether she has a right to or not, she does resent it, because it means she can't push it off onto somebody else.)

And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if those were the only papers she needs to take care of, but she's in Lukas's workshop instead of her own room for a reason. He'd already spent at least an hour on paperwork before Petra settled down to deal with hers, and his consists of pretty much every complaint, suggestion, and request that the Order's gotten in the past two weeks. The serious stuff's handled as they get it, but the more minor things tend to pile up until somebody finally decides to work on them-- and Petra's not cruel enough that she'd just ditch him when she finished her stuff.

Ivor, Axel, and Jesse are off on some adventure Ivor couldn't be more excited for, and while Petra's glad they'll have fun exploring whatever special temple Ivor was going on about, she also knows they won't be back until long after dark, and asking Olivia for help when she's in Redstonia drowning in paperwork of her own doesn't seem fair.

(Most of what Petra’s already gone through have been complaints that don't really mean anything and requests that are more about things that the Order can't take care of, things like city maintenance and trade disagreements in cities hundreds of meters away from where theirs even begins, though there's one letter they got that morning that's very clearly written by two different people who can't agree on anything, and it's been the highlight of Petra's day so far. She has no idea how Reggie deals with it, but the invitation itself is nice.)

Still, Petra's only halfway through some ungodly sized stack that's been separated from an even bigger one, and the words have all already started to blur and bleed together.

Time for a break.

Petra stretches her arms above her head before pushing her chair back, turning from the eyesore of paper as she gets to her feet.

"Petra?"

"Forget this. Nothing matters any more. Do you want ice cream?" Lukas doesn't answer at first, raising an eyebrow while he turns the quill in his fingers, and Petra sighs as she brushes her hair back. "Look, my brain's melting, and you've been at this longer than I have. Don't tell me I'm the only one who needs a break."

"Sure." Lukas shrugs as he gets to his feet, pausing with a hand on the top of the back of his chair as his lips quirk up. "Why ice cream?"

"Because without ice cream, I'm going to chuck everything into the nearest pool of lava, and I don't want to have to start all over again. Besides, I missed lunch for this, and ice cream's nice." And she happens to know where Ivor keeps a stash of the stuff, and he probably won't notice if a bit goes missing, so that helps. Petra shrugs, smirking as she starts walking towards the door. "Unless you want to keep going?"

Lukas doesn't skip a beat, glancing back to the behemoth of scrolls and papers with far too many boxes and lines that need filling before looking back at her with a grin, following behind her.

"Ice cream sounds good."


	255. Tussle

Petra and Jesse walk side by side as they make their way down the road, shoes clacking against the stone as they move away from the cafe they had lunch at. The hot cocoa and even warmer foods are a good way to stay cozy in the chill brought on by the sharp breezes that occasionally kick up into sharper winds, not warmed at all by the dark grey clouds that cover the sky.

It's a nice day, regardless. Jesse can’t really remember the last time just the two of them went into town to hang out, and things have finally calmed down enough that fans aren't really an issue. It's not the same as her and Petra training together or even just lounging about in the living room; neither of them have their armor, and Jesse doubts she'd be able to get Petra to laugh as hard or roll her eyes as much if she just went and bought some of the extra kitschy items that line the shelves of newer tourist traps.

It's a nice day, and they have a good city, but Jesse not watching out for fans also means her guard's not up as much as it should be.

All it takes is the two of them walking past an alley, Jesse on Petra's left and closer to it, before Jesse feels a hand latching onto her shoulder, yanking her back as another one grabs her throat. Petra leaps into action as soon as Jesse lets out a short, choked noise, tackling the person who grabbed Jesse.

The thing is, while this is _their_ city, people can come and go as they please. They haven't been heroes for nearly as long as the last Order was, and most paintings of them have their armor and Jesse knows all this, but she's still surprised when the small group of four, bandaged fists in view and clothes no better than threadbare, freeze, save for the one that falls to the ground. She keeps moving, twisting before kicking Petra in the face and scrambling to get upright again, and that seems to set things in motion.

The alley is dark, barely lit enough to keep monsters from spawning and easily dark enough to hide in. It isn't their first fist fight, even if Jesse knows she'll always feel more comfortable with using a sword.

Petra gets to her feet and straightens up before she starts throwing punches, and maybe it's the lighting, maybe it's how fast everything's moving, but there's something about it that makes Jesse pause.

Jesse's known Axel for years, and even at her tallest Petra's nowhere close to his height, but it's not so much how tall she is that throws Jesse off as much as the difference does. She's seen her straighten up before during fights, but that's always been in her armor, or jokingly at best when they're fooling around with the others.

It's something she can think about later, but the image Petra makes sticks out from the person she was just a moment ago and Jesse can't figure out why.

Not that it matters; weeks of practicing one on one with Gabriel and the following training with the rest of the Order, never mind their adventures, make it so that taking down their attackers is fairly easy, even with the little distraction. At least, easy up to the point where one of them manages to sneak behind her and surprise her from behind while she kicks another one back.

Jabbing him in the head with her elbow manages to throw him off balance, and her biting his hand probably helps, but it takes a quick turn, a well-aimed kick to the gut, and a lucky hit to the throat for him to get the idea that he should just stay down.

It all comes to a grinding halt when Petra pulls a dagger, the blade gleaming in the little light available, on who seems to be the leader of the bunch.

Jesse's not exactly sure where it came from, Petra's shirt baggy enough that she could've hidden it up her sleeve and her boots both just as likely candidates, but it doesn't really matter when the man in her grip thrashes about and she has other things to focus on.

The punch to her face is square and quick, and Jesse reeling back makes the punch she gives him in return sloppier than it should be. It's not weak, and he stops struggling when Petra makes it clear she will use her dagger if she has to, but Jesse's hardly satisfied with it. The six of them stay there, panting as they silently eye each other, too rigid and stiff for any movement to be unintentional.

Once Jesse's breathing's back to normal, she notices the guard heading straight for them, followed by a second guard a small ways behind, and she's not sure if she should be annoyed or worried. On one hand, the help would've been nice before, but on the other, Petra's eyes narrow and Jesse's not sure she won't take her anger out on the guards for the poor timing.

She doesn’t, though. She’s mostly quiet, her words short and clipped when she speaks.

As soon as all four of their ambushers are handcuffed, Petra latches onto Jesse, holding her hand with a tighter grip than she was before as she walks away from the guards, which have since grown from two to four. People are already starting to gather, poking their heads out of their stalls or the doors to their houses, but they all start gathering too late and none of them follow Petra or Jesse.

Petra doesn't stop moving until they're well out of sight, around a corner on a street that seems entirely abandoned in light of the far more interesting arrest taking place, and it's then that her shoulders relax even just a fraction as she lets go of Jesse's hand, turning to face her.

Petra's expression is pinched and tight and also manages to border on unreadable as she digs through her pocket, Jesse blinking as a dark red handkerchief is thrust at her.

"Your face." Petra doesn't look at her as she gestures with a hand towards her own nose. "You've, uh... got a little blood up here."

Jesse nods, opening her mouth and saying nothing before she closes it again, blood sticking to her fingers as she wipes off what's already trickled down her mouth and chin. Petra accepts the bloodied mess of a handkerchief a few moments later, shoving it in her pocket without another word.

It's like something's tugging and twisting Jesse’s gut from the inside, and for a moment it almost feels like back at Endercon, when she'd bungled up something as easy as diving into water.

It's not a fun feeling.

"We should get you a potion."

"Me?" Jesse wipes the back of her hand against her mouth, a small smear of blood there when it pulls away. "Petra, I'm fine. This'll stop soon; if anybody needs one, it's you."

Petra might not be bleeding as much as Jesse, but the split lip doesn't look any fun, and neither does the small cut on the right side of her head that's still bleeding, the hair closest to it sticking and turning a somewhat darker shade of red. The skin around her left eye is already looking red and swollen, and Jesse's pretty sure it won't take long for it to become a black eye.

"Your nose shouldn't still be bleeding." And Jesse feels a bit more lightheaded than she should, but it's possible it's just the rush of the fight that still hasn't entirely worn off.

"Look, I'm sure Ivor'll give us both one once he's done chewing us out."

Petra relaxes a bit more at that, lips twisting into a small and brief smile as she gives a light huff.

"...alright, yeah, you're right." She sighs as she brushes her hair back, extending a hand to Jesse as she turns to walk back to the temple. "Come on, let's go home."

It’s with a stronger smile that Jesse accepts the offered hand.


	256. Beatdown

Aiden should be used to silence.

He's not. He's really not. It does things to him, things he doesn't like but can't change.

The only thing he knows is real is the metal slot sliding open and the clank of the meal tray.

At least, he thinks it’s real. There's hardly ever any food on it anymore, and it sounds just as realistic as the voices he hears, as real as the dripping of the leak in the roof, as real as the scuttling of something across the floor that he never sees but always hears when he's at his most tired.

He thought they were going to kill him. What he was sentenced to instead feels worse.

Solitary confinement.

Fitting, for someone like him. Isa certainly seemed happy about it at the time.

A danger to society.

A danger to himself.

An unstable, deranged loony they can't kill outright, because that'd be too easy.

Maybe today he'll sleep and not wake up. He'll be living as much of a life as he is now, if he does. It might even be more of one. Maybe he won't be able to feel hungry or weak then. Maybe—

Aiden's eyes open as he hears footsteps, and he holds back a wince as he sits up.

It's too loud to be a mouse, easy enough for him to hear even through the thick walls. He's already been given his tiny slice of bread and cup of water for the day.

His fingers curl, gripping the itchy and thin sheet as the footsteps pause, the mutters stopping a moment later. There's the sound of metal against metal, and he swallows, dropping the sheet in favor of letting his hands curl into fists, his knuckles growing whiter by the second.

And then the door opens.

Aiden's stomach sinks as several guards, ones he recognizes vaguely but can't begin to claim he knows, file in.

His stomach settles in his feet as half of them draw their swords.

It's just a guess, but he doesn't think they're here for a chat.

He holds his hands up, straightening up as he eyes them. It's hard to focus on just one of them as they spread out in the already small room, and as they get closer the swords pointed at him are easier to focus on.

It's a mistake.

He doesn't know who yanks him to his feet, only that his head's too busy spinning when they do.

One of the guards sheaths her sword, and the flat look shifts into a grin and Aiden doesn't even think his stomach's still somewhere in his body.

The others sheath their swords too, and the grinning guard goes from standing still to standing right in front of him, grabbing onto the mat his hair's become before he can say anything.

He can’t say anything when he’s left unsteady after being backhanded in the face, and a punch in the gut leaves him gasping for air as fingers yank on his hair.

It's some sort of twisted mercy they don't just stab him and leave him there to die.

Aiden hisses as he tilts his head upwards, trying to relieve some of the pressure. The hand holding his hair only tugs tighter, and he realizes a moment too late that his neck is vulnerable.

It's not a fun realization to have when he has a hand to his throat, hacking and wheezing and just trying to _breathe_.

It's not a mercy. He'd take the stabbing; it'd be quicker.

She steps away, and Aiden’s hardly prepared when another guard steps in and takes over.

Like clockwork, there's one punch after another, joined by the occasional kick. Aiden tries to grab his wrist, and his nails, uneven to the point of being jagged and long, dig into the guard’s skin.

 _That_ gets him a hissed curse and a knee to the gut. Aiden thinks that's the reason he can't breathe again until the fingers around his neck tighten.

He really thinks he's going to die, even as he claws at the hand with his own, until another guard steps up, one with a smirk that he hasn't dropped since he entered.

"Come on, play fair. My turn."

Aiden's dropped to the ground as the other one huffs and rolls his eyes.

He doesn't see what's fair about it; it's not a fight, it's a beat down.

It takes a bit of scrambling, but Aiden's back on his feet, his back pressed against the cold stone that he swears may as well be made of metal, and just in time to get another punch to the face. The back of his head slams against the wall as knuckles slam against his nose, the loud crack it makes accompanied by a yelp he doesn't swallow in time.

He brings a knee up as the guard readies a second punch, but he only ends up hitting the guard's knee and that's when the smirk's replaced by a scowl.

Several punches later, Aiden's not quite sure how he got onto the floor, and he doesn't really care.

This time, he's not getting up. Maybe they'll leave if they get bored. The ground feels nice and cool anyways, even if the side of his face is sticky, blood running from his nose to his cheek.

Aiden hears the metal door creak as it’s opened, but none of them have moved. The boots right by his head, the ones that swirl and twist in ways they shouldn't when Aiden tries to lift his head, haven't at least.

There's an awful lot of shouting, actually, and not at him. Not unless his ears are busted too.

But the guards by him go silent pretty quickly, and the yelling's still almost just as loud.

He can't hear what's being said, not over his own panting and the sound of his heart hammering against his chest, but he can see well enough. The guards file out of the room just like they came in, and Aiden's left staring at a pair of black boots that move closer to him.

The boots stop right by his head, Aiden biting back a whine as he tries to jerk his head back. He only manages to rub blood against more of his hair and the stone bricks.

Instead, he manages to turn his head enough to look up with eyes that feel too sore, and when he's offered a hand, it's too tempting to take. Aiden fully expects to be punched right back down, but his head is swimming and everything hurts.

Maybe that's why it takes him a moment to look past the hand that grabs his own.

(But he does, and he sees the hat before he sees the mustache and the eyes giving him a look he can't read, and he knows he's royally fucked.)

Reginald doesn't say anything as Aiden's slowly pulled to his feet, and it's only when he has Aiden steady that his other hand goes to the hilt of his sword. Aiden stiffens, trying to pull away but easily held in place by the hand holding onto his side.

No other guards means no witnesses.

Reggie's not looking at him, though. His head's turned towards the shut metal door, and his hand leaves the sword as easily as it found it once he turns his head back to face Aiden.

Aiden knows he's a mess. He’s breathing through blood that’s oozing down his mouth, body aching with every breath.

He knows how easy it would be for Reggie to kill him. And why wouldn't he?

Aiden would’ve burned his city to the ground if he’d had his way, and he tried to kill Reggie’s leader.

That's why Aiden doesn't get it when he's helped back over to the cot, and he still doesn't get it when Reggie turns and leaves the room without looking back, the iron door clanging when it swings shut.

(Aiden's still staring at the door when a roll of bandages is slid through the meal slot along with a tiny vial, the pink liquid inside glowing brighter than the dim torches.)


	257. Quiet

Petra pushes the button on top of the coffee machine as it lets out a beep before it can make any more noise, pulling out the pot with a grip that's shakier than it should be. Turning towards the small coffee table sitting in the corner of the kitchen, she catches Jesse lifting her head.

Petra's footsteps are light, now that she’s out of her armor, and her empty mug makes no noise as she picks it up from the counter.

Jesse lifts her own empty one in a sort of mock salute, one made all the cornier by her cheesy grin. She already has another empty one sitting beside her, but Petra knows who Jesse's waiting for.

She's not sure if he'll still be up, though, forget ready for a cup of coffee, with how quickly everyone else dozed off.

There's the low, constant rumble that's Axel's snoring, the back of his head barely visible on the arm of the couch, while Olivia's lighter snores occasionally echo down the hall, the door to her room left open a crack. Petra’s not sure if Ivor's asleep yet, but it doesn't matter. The click of the lock as soon as he shut his lab's door said more than enough.

Still, as soon as Petra sits down, Lukas shuffles in from the hall, jacket and goggles still on, said jacket unzipped and letting them see the striped shirt he has on underneath while his goggles cover his eyes. His boots are off, though she's not sure if he had the fuzzy socks on beneath them before. Unless she's seeing things, she's pretty sure there's a picture of an ocelot stitched into each one too.

He gives a small grunt as he sits down next to Jesse, fingers of one hand curling around the handle of the mug set there and looking pale against its own dark red color, giving a smile that's smaller but no weaker that the one she did when Petra pours for him right after pouring Jesse a cup.

Lukas takes a sip before pushing it in front of him a bit, letting go of the drink to shove his goggles up onto his forehead before rubbing at his eyes with the same hand, the other one keeping his head propped up as his elbow rests on the table.

Not that it isn't a little hard to tell the difference, with the deep bags under his eyes that look as dark as the tinted lens.

Petra grins as Jesse brings a hand up, unsuccessfully covering her own smile as they share a glance. Lukas's gaze flickers between them before he lifts his head a bit, brow furrowing.

"What?"

"It's, uh... it's just your eyes."

"Lukas, you look like hell." Petra's chuckles as she gets her own drink are slightly louder than Jesse's poorly stifled giggles, and she's not surprised she's the one he chooses to give a flat look. It's not her fault it’s the truth. His hair's messy, mussed and ruffled all over, his bangs either sticking to his forehead or curling behind the goggles pressing them flat, and she's willing to bet he's itching for hair gel more than he wants sleep. Not that there'd be much point in putting some on before heading to bed, which she guesses is why he's here instead of pulling himself apart in front of a mirror.

"So do you." She snorts, but she knows she can't argue. They've all got bags under their eyes, and, used to an odd sleep schedule or not, she feels half ready to crash on the floor. Tossing in bed proved that wasn't going to happen, though, so here she is.

She's not sure why Lukas and Jesse are here, though, but coffee's coffee.

"Fair enough."

Jesse looks at Petra before looking back at Lukas, rubbing at the bags under her own eyes.

"When'd we make this a contest?" Her smile's small and slightly crooked, the question quiet but warm.

"When we decided it was a good idea to do two back to back adventures." Lukas's frown is more of a pout as he shoves his goggles back over his eyes, raising a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn as soon as he does.

"Not like we had much of a choice if we didn't want the city to explode." Petra rolls her eyes, the chair creaking as she leans back in it, arms crossed behind her head for a moment before she straightens up.

If it isn't one thing, it's another, and the wannabe gankers that had tried setting up dynamite around the city thought they wouldn't be caught at night.

They were wrong.

Petra makes a mental note to congratulate the guard that spotted them again later as she lifts the mug to her lips.

Axel had taken care of most of the dynamite, using half of it against the griefers once they were chasing them through the forest. He'd had a pretty good aim, especially after nearly dislocating his shoulder when they'd been scaling a mountain earlier. A small group of idiots wasn't anywhere near too much for the Order to handle, but the chase had been less exciting and more frustrating and annoying.

And _then_ there'd been paperwork. Paperwork that apparently couldn't wait and had all the busybodies in the city in a fuss, so there wasn't much getting out of that, not with how easily Jesse had smiled and accepted it.

Jesse'd then gone and acted like she was going to do it all on her own, which just flat out wasn't gonna fly.

Not that the paperwork was fun, and even split between all six of them it took longer than actually catching the arsonists had, but none of them were expecting something nice.

Well, okay, going to bed before sunrise would've been nice. Maybe they'd all been banking a little too heavily on that, if the light peeking past the top of the heavy, dark drawn curtains means anything.

Petra pauses midway through another drink, hands going still as Jesse mutters something. She sets the drink down, opening her mouth to say something before she realizes she's not going to get any response.

Jesse's almost curled up in her seat, arms pulling her knees to her chest, chin resting on top of them along with half her face. Her eyes are closed as her fingers twitch, followed by another mutter that really doesn't seem to mean anything, coffee nearly untouched.

And Petra doesn't doubt for a minute that'd she'd have fallen asleep in an instant if she'd gone to bed as soon as they got back. And Petra knows if she wakes Jesse up, even if it's just by getting up, Jesse's going to feel like she did something wrong. Like she's wrong for being human. Petra doesn't think being a leader's been the best thing for Jesse, as much as the role fits her like a glove, if only because Jesse seems to think being a leader means being perfect. She's strong and quick, both with her words and her fists, and she's definitely improved since the start, and Petra knows she doesn't see that progress. Not really. It's part of what makes her an interesting, if infuriating, leader.

She's also too cute for her own good, but that's beside the point.

"Guess we're the only ones left." Petra raises an eyebrow as she's met with silence, turning her head away from Jesse. "Lukas...?"

Never mind.

His goggles might be covering his eyes, but his head's tilted to the side, arm now more lying on the table than propped up by it. His breathing is just as quiet and slow as Jesse's, minus the muttering, and there's no mistaking the way his back and shoulders have gone from attempting-to-be-straight to slumped.

Petra's lips twitch up again as she rolls her eyes, shoulders relaxing as she takes another sip of her coffee, glancing down at the dark drink as her voice grows quieter and her smile grows wider.

"...or just me."

She sets the drink on the table before closing her eyes, tilting her head back. She cracks an eye open after resting her feet on the table, boots still on, but neither of them seem anymore awake than they did before.

With a grin, she crosses her arms over her chest and lets sleep take her.


	258. Teeth

New records for the jukeboxes they almost never use has never seemed like such a serious need to Ivor before.

However, as he listens to perhaps the most grating song for what can't be anything less than the tenth time, muffled by walls or not, he finds himself seriously considering destroying the jukeboxes a fair alternative.

Ivor is not a party person. He'll always be far more excited by the experiments in his lab than whatever loud, flashy party Jesse's started this time, and any opportunities for embarrassment there almost always go unseen by everyone else.

It doesn't help that by the end of every party, Ivor finds himself dragged into some situation he'd rather have nothing to do with. It's not Jesse's fault, really; it's been Ivor's luck from the very beginning. It just doesn't help that now his knees often ache for no reason and he often wants to go to bed before midnight.

He'd blame time, except that hasn't seemed to slow Magnus down any.

(Though it seems to have made Gabriel wiser. He isn't anywhere to be seen, and Ivor knows who'd be taking care of their stupidly drunken friend if he was. He's more cunning than Ivor gives him credit for, sometimes, and maybe that'd mean more to Ivor if Magnus wasn't clutching his stomach and constantly switching between laughing far too loudly and retching far too much. As it is, Magnus is, so any potential respect Ivor could possibly have is instead currently simmering resentment.)

Ivor resists the urge to roll his eyes as he pats Magnus on the back, before thinking better of it and just rolling his eyes.

The well-deserved eye roll is interrupted in favor of backing away and standing as Magnus decides to get to his feet, wiping the back of his sleeve against his mouth as the bucket tips to the side, righting itself before any of the contents can spill onto the lush, red carpet.

The guest room is one of the smaller ones in the temple, but it's also one of the furthest away from the living room and thus one of the furthest away from the party. That doesn't stop muffled music from seeping its way through a wall of solid quartz, or the noise caused by the dancing and poor singing of the people still partying, but it means it's the quietest they can have without leaving altogether.

Magnus doesn't laugh as he all but collapses on the bed, and he's quick to wave off the raised eyebrow and offered hand.

"No, 'm fine. I don't need any help." Ivor disagrees, but he knows from experiences how well arguing with a drunk Magnus goes.

Magnus doesn't quite stand, kneeling as he straightens up before slouching not a moment later. He doesn't say anything or look back at Ivor, instead staring at the wall, body still save for the twitching of his fingers.

"You haven't changed a bit." Ivor crosses his arms and allows himself a smirk. "It's either infuriating or almost cute. I haven't decided which."

He has, of course. It's absolutely maddening. (And the bucket of vomit beside the bed makes it even harder to see any of this as cute. Not looking at it doesn't keep Ivor's nose from working.) But the second option gets the reaction Ivor expects it to, even if it's more exaggerated than he thought it'd be.

Magnus turns his head, lips twisting into a scowl as he glares at Ivor.

"I swear, I'm not cute or sweet. Don't call me that. I am evil. I am the shadows in the night. _Fear me_!" His voice is slightly different as he says it, a bit lower in the way it always gets when he tries to put on a show or intimidate someone.

It's something of a miracle that Magnus gets through all of it without slurring anything too horribly, swaying on his knees but staying upright all the same, but Ivor has the feeling that the significance is lost on him. After all, Magnus still has bunny slippers on, one of them actually on his foot instead of his hand. Not that Ivor knows whose bunny slippers those could be, seeing as how no one else in the Order wears anything like them.

(And with how often people's personal belongings are used as blackmail during prank wars, Ivor would know.)

Still, he doubts Magnus would bother bringing and concealing bunny slippers from Redstonia just for the sake few using them once he was drunk enough.

"You're drunk." Ivor crosses his arms, expression not changing. "And the only one fearing you is the bucket."

Magnus's posture slumps once again as he pouts.

"...still not cute."

This was more than just basic pride.

"Who else called you cute?" Axel likes messing with Magnus, but something like that's hardly the thing to ruffle Mganus's feathers. There's somebody else, though, that seems to genuinely find everyone cute in some way or another, Ivor himself inexplicably included, and well-meaning but blunt enough to not mind telling them. "Jesse."

The response Ivor's small smirk gets is another flat look and a tone that could be a snarl if Magnus's words weren't slurring on him.

"Guy's got a right to _some_ pride." Magnus puffs out his chest slightly, fingers curled into a fist as he gestures to himself with a thumb. "I'm the king of Boom Town."

"I thought Axel had taken over while you've been busy in Redstonia." Magnus's teeth show through his sneer as he lowers his hands back to the bed, fingers curling into the blankets as he leans towards Ivor, nearly losing his balance in the process.

" _Temporarily_."

"When were you planning on returning?"

"...sometime. After Olivia gets everything settled and all. I dunno, man." Magnus groans, slumping over on the bed, the mattress creaking. "Maybe I'm not the king of anything right now, but that doesn't mean they've gotta treat me like I'm cuddly or something. Makes me feel old."

Ivor snorts.

"We are."

"Doesn't suddenly make me weak or anything." Magnus rolls his eyes, elbow sinking into the bed as he rests his chin on his hand. "Don't tell me they don't make you feel like they yanked all your teeth out."

Ivor's hands go still for a moment and Ivor's giving a sneer of his own before he knows it.

Countless years spent growing bitter, spending less and less time around people and in villages unless necessary, had left him with a nice sharp set.

One that did him no good against his own creation.

Even with the peace that came with the world finding out the truth about the Enderdragon, it took a while for Ivor to feel comfortable around Jesse and the others, especially with the latter seeming just as hesitant and suspicious as he was. Still, few things were as effective at making bonds as an adventure was.

And he knows what could be seen as a poorly veiled threat towards them makes his hackles rise.

"...I assure you, my 'teeth' are right as I left them." The words are curt, clipped and terse compared to his earlier ones, but Magnus only grins.

"There, see? You get what I mean." He shrugs as he looks back down at the bed, free hand tossing aside the bunny slipper before pulling at the top blanket. "'s— it's like being a wolf that everybody sees as a puppy."

Ivor pauses, fingers curling into fists before he exhales through his nose, hands relaxing. Magnus has been far more annoying when drunk before, and Ivor's been through enough of it himself that he knows what introspection looks like.

"...Magnus, it's not as if any of them underestimate you. You were one of their idols since the beginning." One of the many bonuses to lying to an entire world for years on end, Ivor doesn't add.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mind that they're cool with me— I'm glad they haven't just tossed me to the mobs after everythin." Magnus looks back up at Ivor before shifting his arms, letting his head rest on the bed itself. "I just want to know how the hell they did it. You tried to kill 'em when you first knew them, and now it's like you're one of their best friends."

"Hm." Ivor shifts the chair that sits at the laughably small desk beside the bed, turning it to face the bed as he picks up the faded paperback that sits on top of the desk itself. Several of the pages are dog-eared, and, judging by the odd cover, it's one of Petra's less tasteful reading choices. "You're a philosophical drunk."

Magnus raises his head again briefly, grin wide and toothy.

"Drove Ellie nuts."


	259. Goop

It's a good thing the door is locked, but Jesse doubts the crash went unheard. Maybe she's lucky, maybe the others have gotten loud again and she just can't hear them, maybe they're all far enough away or outside, but she's been anything but lucky lately.

One set of knuckles is as pale as the counter while the other is bloodied, and probably has at least one little shard of glass stuck somewhere. Most of the glass, normal mirror surrounding a cracked and shattered circle, is still in the mirror, while only a few long shards sit in the sink and sit scattered across the quartz counter, but Jesse knows her luck and she can't ignore the way her hand throbs.

If only it was just her hand.

The pain shoots from her fingers up her arms, travelling across her shoulders and making all of her ache. A little punch shouldn't hurt so much. A little glass shouldn't be able to do that. She shouldn't be so weak.

But that's part of the problem, isn't it?

Always too weak.

And sure, her training with Gabriel has made her strong, but it's not enough, it's not the kind of strength she needs. She still gets too tired too easily, her body needs too much and keeps her from ever doing enough.

Her uninjured but still aching hand lets go of the counter with some difficulty, fingers brushing against the small, black pendant that hangs from her neck before tracing the chain of the necklace it's attached to.

Part of her wants to say things have been like this since the week started, beginning with the gift someone had left in her room. She still hasn't gotten anyone to confess to leaving her the necklace, but the week's been so quiet adventure wise and she's almost constantly complimented about it, so on it stays. She'd had hopes it was a good luck charm of some kind. If anything, things have only gotten worse since she got it, as if it's cursed, but she still hasn't gotten around to taking it off. It's something to hold onto when she's angry, something that's been happening a lot lately, but part of her can't help but notice how short her temper's been since she got it.

But that's not really true, is it? After all, she's been failing her team since long before then. This is just the end result of everything that's been piling up crashing down on her. This is what she gets for being a bad friend, for being an even worse leader. Of course she's mad at herself. Who wouldn't be?

The problem with the past week is that it's just become clearer and clearer how much her friends praise her for things she doesn't deserve any credit for, how much they see this person she knows they deserve but that she also knows she can't be, no matter how hard she tries.

Hadrian knew more than he probably ever realized.

Because here she is, on top of the world, and all she wants is to go back to her tree house. She wants to go back and find Reuben waiting there for her, except she's tried that so many times before and he never is, because he's dead and it's all her fault. And it's not like she can stay at the tree house, because it's not her home anymore and now she's supposed to belong here, in boots that feel a hundred sizes too big. And she's so selfish.

Because what wouldn't she give to have things go back to the way they were, when she wasn't responsible for killing innocent people?

Because her friends are finally happy with the way things are now. All of them. They can have anything now, do almost anything, and they're all working so hard to make as many worlds as they can better places. And then they go and compliment her on a move that she knows was too sloppy, or tell her that the stupid plan she had that any of them could make in a fraction of the time she did was genius and they're really impressed. And Jesse knows they're lying to her, because they have to be, because she knows who she is and this amazing friend they keep talking about isn't her. They deserve so much better.

She feels like she's in somebody else's skin.

And she's so angry.

_Why is she so angry?_

And then Jesse realizes that her neck is burning, that it feels like hot iron is being pressed against it from all sides, but she can't move her hands, she can only grip the necklace and the counter tighter, and she can't move. Or maybe she can, but she's too weak, she's busy gasping for breath and trying to pull whatever's hurting her neck away.

She doesn't collapse, but her knees go weak and she has to juggle staying upright too.

There's somebody knocking on the door, each knock louder and more frantic than the last, and whoever it is is shouting— shouting _something_ , but she doesn't know what and the sludge is in her ears now, all she can hear is it bubbling as it oozing down her face and starts to pool at her feet. Except she can't feel her feet, it's so hot, she feels like she's melting alive and her scream is swallowed by what tastes like a filthy combination of ink and mud. She can't breathe, quick and sharp breaths only making the muck travel down her throat faster, and her nose is a lost cause, everything smells like ashes and burning leather.

And maybe, she realizes what should be a growing sense of horror but is instead a fading sense of control and an even fainter feeling of being awake as she attempts to kick her legs and only gets the goo to tremble and lurch forward the slightest amount, maybe she isn't being covered by goop so much as she's turning into it.

The last thing she sees is black.


	260. Destruction

The thing about living with a griefer is that everything becomes eye for an eye. _Everything_. No exceptions.

It isn't that Petra wasn't any good at pranks before the whole Witherstorm disaster; she just never really bothered with them. She can't begin to count how many prank wars she's been dragged into since, though. Every quiet corridor becomes subject to at least some suspicion and light glinting weirdly off a part of the floor automatically means a tripwire. Doors left cracked open need to be checked before they're moved, and every bottle of anything remotely important has to be see through. Anything Axel has a hand it cooking is either going to be the best or the worst thing ever made, which makes dinner some nights an interesting gamble that everybody'd be better off skipping. It's a strange breed of paranoia, but it reminds Petra more of expecting monsters around every corner than anything else.

(Half the time Axel isn't even at the temple, but when he isn't, it's always quieter in a way that manages to make the silence empty. She almost has more trouble sleeping then than when she thinks he's up to something.)

The end result is that most nights everyone sleeps with one eye open, including Axel. Being the one who plays most of the pranks, he's also the biggest target. Killing zombies and skeletons is fun, but revenge? It's pretty sweet. Petra likes to think she's gotten the hang of making him pay when she needs to.

It's not as easy to pay him back for destroying the living room, though. She's not keen on wrecking anymore of the temple, but it's not something he'll get away with either.

The couch is on its side, part of it stained a dark splotchy brown and one of the armrests torn open, wool dangling from the tear and dripping with something. She'd say it's beer, except that the entire room reeks of it and she's not sure she wants to really know what was splashed on the couch.

The fireplace is mostly untouched, save for the heart print boxers that are smeared with ash and seem to have gotten snagged on one of the iron bars in front of the partially burned logs. They didn't exactly need a fire to keep the room bright, though.

Petra didn't think she'd see the glowstone again after they finished building the temple, the light much dimmer when buried by wool in a way that made for a practically cozy atmosphere when paired with the fire, but the frayed and charred ends of the remaining red carpet that clings to the edges of the room can't exactly cover the entire floor. The tops of several of the wood planks have gone from a deep brown to a darker black, gnarled when compared to the smoother and relatively untouched planks lying beneath them.

The whole thing manages to remind her that she also lives with a crazy alchemist who can be both the best and the worst influence. Worst more often than best, if the living room is any indicator.

"Some party, huh?" It was one of their smallest ones, had here instead of one of the giant buildings deep inside the city they use when it's supposed to be a public celebration, and as far as she knows, none of those buildings have come close to getting as wrecked as the room is. They hadn't even all been here. Olivia's still in Redstonia, and Petra's starting to think she's onto something.

"Hey, in my defense, I had too much sugar, alright?!" Axel's tone is sharp, and he's still squinting as he looks from the floor to Petra. The garbage bag in Petra's hand rustles as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"What, and a dozen beers?"

"...it wasn't that much." Axel pauses at her flat look, tone softer, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at the empty mugs littering the floor. She's not sure if the wince is because of how bright the glowstone is or if his head's just as happy with him as his hangover is. Probably both. "Well.... alright, maybe it was close. But you can't just blame me for all this."

Petra uncrosses her arms, stepping closer to the couch to pick up the crushed cans that look like they're wedged under it. The couch groans as she tips it back up, but the cushions don’t move, almost like they’re glued to the couch.

Yup, they’re getting a new couch.

"That's why Jesse's dealing with Ivor." Jesse's also dealing with Ivor because after dragging him by his robe last night and all but dumping him in his room, Petra doesn't think he'd be as willing to listen to her.

"What about Lukas?"

"Lukas?" She pauses for a second, hand inside the garbage bag as she raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? The sugar I can get, but he's a lightweight. And he knows better than to go along with whatever crazy stuff you and Ivor come up with, no matter how drunk you managed to get him."

"...I don't really remember. I don't think he stuck around for too long after we got the lava out. Think he stole the cookies and booked it." Axel's frown lingers for a few moments before he smiles again. "And hey, it wasn't crazy. It was cool."

"Axel, you almost set the room on fire."

"I said it was cool." The smile becomes a grin. "I never said anything about it being safe."

"Since it's so cool, _you_ can put it back together." Her lips twitch up in a smirk as he groans. "What? We already kept you from filling the temple with lava. I know you can build."

"You mean you guys sucked all the fun out of everything." Axel grumbles as he sets his own bag aside, turning to walk towards the temporary chest sitting in the corner of the room. It should have enough supplies inside to fix the room back up, not that Petra doubts that Lukas will want to redo it as soon as possible. Taking care of the smell will take some work, but it'll be a quick patch job to just build stuff over again and pick up the trash.

"I think that's the hangover talking." And she knows it's no small hangover. It's because the job's easy that Axel's working at all, and Jesse's just having Ivor make some potions to see if he's all there and try and reprimand him.

Judging by the huff, Axel doesn't agree.

Petra rolls her eyes, chuckling before she picks up a greasy wrapper that's been burned along one side and grimaces.

They're probably going to have a bit of a break before the next party, big or otherwise.


	261. Rebuild (Ellegaard/Magnus)

The churning and clanging of machinery is a constant thrum, not lulling as Ellegaard looks up, pushing her goggles back as she squints at the clock, still moving the wrench in one hand to twist the already fastened bolt that occasionally gives a creak or a groan.

One thirty. By now, Olivia's asleep in her bed, where she'll stay for four more hours. Five, if Ellegaard's lucky and if Olivia has a better night than usual.

She thinks Ellegaard's going to stay up all night, tinkering with this and that until she's satisfied.

She's not entirely wrong; Ellegaard won't be going to bed any time soon, and she'll still be working, just not on the little projects they've been working at all day.

She has her own pet project that's going to get some much needed attention.

Ellegaard pulls her goggles off her head as she steps away from the tangle of pistons and pipes, setting the wrench aside on a currently inactive dispenser with a light clank, moving the goggles from hand to hand as she walks away from the center of her workshop.

Her hands still as she moves to the corner, crates of excess supplies they don't need right now making no sound as they're pushed away from the wall. The wall itself lurches back and opens up just as silently as Ellegaard taps the button placed only barely out of sight and just as barely above the ground. Once she's through, all it takes is the pull of a lever and she's listening to machinery she can hardly hear, the thick wall and crates sliding back into their original positions.

Goggles still in one hand, Ellegaard picks up the redstone torch attached to the wall, the light it provides laughably dim when compared to the lamps of the rest of the building and yet far brighter than the rest of the dark staircase. The dark oak of the walls and the stairs themselves probably doesn't help, but it's not as if she has to worry about anybody else critiquing her building choices.

Well, not yet. That's part of what she's working on, technically. If all goes well, soon enough she'll have someone around who can argue with her over anything, poor decor choices included.

Ellegaard isn't playing god so much as she's bending the rules a little.

She's not under any delusions; she's not Notch, and there are hundreds of ways this could crash and burn on her, but what else can she do?

(She could walk away. She could give up and no one would know. Even if she didn't destroy the evidence, it's not like anybody knows that this place exists. It would just sit, rotting. Nothing would change. But it'd be giving up on it, giving up on _him_ , and that's not an option. Not really.)

She has to try.

She's not making another command block, isn't even remotely prepared for what kind of chaos another one would bring, but she has a feeling Ivor would react the same way towards her actual project. They all would.

The command block, as far as she knows, could never have been used to bring somebody back from the dead anyway. Even if one could, Soren was always the best at understanding and using it, and he's even harder to find than a new command block.

(The books he wrote though, the ones Jesse collected, have been of greater help than she'd have ever expected. Soren always paid attention and seemed at least mildly curious in her experiments, but she'd never have guessed that he was skilled enough in it to write as comprehensively on it as he did when dissecting and explaining the Redstone Heart, a topic Harper refuses to speak of.)

While Harper herself, ridiculously talented and speedy in a way Ellegaard won't hesitate to admit makes her jealous, is partly responsible for Ellegaard's little secret after telling her about PAMA, she's also clammed up entirely about almost all of her inventions, especially the ones that were less mechanical and delved into the sorely undeveloped field that is artificial intelligence.

Asking her for any help would be just as good as directly telling Jesse or Ivor, so Ellegaard's entirely on her own, save for what she can apply from Soren's writings.

It makes progress slow, but at least this way she can keep working on it without any of them finding out and trying to stop her.

It doesn't help that this is the first project of its kind, especially in this world. She's never heard of anything like this, but that's what makes it a challenge. Finally creating flexible and durable synthetic skin after over a month of trial and error was just the start. Her little project’s forced her to both get creative and stick to what she knows, making for a blend of infuriatingly difficult and surprisingly easy work. The actual body or any body parts have been out of the question from the start, and memories are tricky at best, but _making_ the body? Once upon a time she had it memorized. She doesn't doubt that he managed to get a number of new scars over the years they spent apart, but she can only guess as to where those ones go.

Ellegaard sighs as she reaches the bottom of the winding stairway, the hum of much quieter and much fewer machinery drowning out the silence as she places the torch on the wall. There are far more torches here than the occasional ones she passed on her way down, though none of them are any brighter. She glances down at her goggles before looking at the table in the center of the tiny makeshift workshop, the sheet undisturbed, still draped across him the way she left it, and her shoulders relax before she realizes they were ever tense.

No interference means more progress. More progress means getting closer to actual results.

A perfect replica doesn't mean anything if it's just a mannequin.

Artificial intelligence is like nothing she's ever worked on before. Of course, one of the things she has to keep an eye on is potential for consequences of world dominating levels, but right now, there's little chance of that. He's not being put in charge of anything important or given any directives he could follow to world shattering extremes.

(All he has to do is talk to her, bicker, _be_ him.

Not that she wants to just occasionally use him for a chat and then shut him down when she's done, but she can't imagine a replica of one of the world's greatest, and most defamed, heroes would be accepted well by anyone.

It— _he's_ not just a replica though. She's gone to so much care to make sure he's him, to bring him back. She's not replacing him. He's just... been gone too long.

She feels like Soren, justifying himself to an empty room solely for the sake of trying to feel better.

...she's so lonely.)

Ellegaard doesn't want a slave. For better or worse, he almost never gave in, and she's not going to make him bend to her will now. Giving him free will is a pain and a possible disaster waiting to happen, but so's he. It's no different than taking on rebuilding him.

She doesn't want a pale imitation either, though. Someone who disagrees constantly for no rhyme or reason, internal or external, is just as bad as the slave.

What she wants is _him_ , and she's nothing if not a stickler for perfection.

She just has to program humanity into a robot shell.

And she’s been working on it, has been for months, and she's itching to just up and finally test him out. The last thing she wants to do is destroy all her progress, though, slow and grueling as it's been. Even if it takes another week, another month, she needs to make sure a test run will go as well as it can.

And knowing Magnus, anything that can go wrong will. A few precautions never hurt anyone.

Ellegaard pulls the sheet back halfway, folding it over itself before sitting in the chair at the head of the table, goggles set on the floor beside her. She uses both hands to lift his head, shifting the back of the mask before beginning to unscrew the metal plate that hides his controls.

"…you know, at first, I thought I lost you." The red torchlight and the redstone’s glow glint off of her and off of him, the red giving the green an interesting looking tinge. Jesse hadn't minded giving Ellegaard his armor. She wonders if she'd have been as willing if she'd known what Ellegaard was really going to use it for. "I know, I know. Stupid of me. You're pretty much already here. But don't worry. I'll finally have you up and running in just a few more days and then you can whine and complain about how long you had to wait until you're blue in the face."


	262. Clinging (Jesse/Petra)

The tavern's usually a good place to spend an evening, especially a warm one like tonight.

It's a nice sized tavern. It's not one of the larger ones, instead little more than the size of a house, with the second floor reserved entirely for lodging. The shelves behind the bar are all visibly crammed and packed, mostly filled booths lining both sides of the tavern's first floor, save for a little gap for the door, the dark oak scratched in some places and the name on both sides faded.

Still, the service is good, and it's close enough to the temple while still not near most of the tourist shops and attractions that it's a lot more appealing than the fancy and fan-filled restaurants or the seedy bars that have popped up.

It reminds Petra of some of the nicer areas she could meet a client, and by this point, they've visited frequently enough that Helga, the barmaid, only looks up and smiles when they come in.

(More laid back location or not, they _are_ kind of famous now, but the first time they ate here the manager didn't faint and only one person bugged Jesse for an autograph, and Petra doesn't think she'd seen Jesse that relaxed when eating out in a long time. They've been coming here almost every week since.)

Of course, good place or not, the same can't always be said for the people who come in. There aren't many tables, only a few sparsely scattered about the middle of the tavern, but it doesn't surprise her that the people who choose to sit at them are the people who have the most reason not to.

Like the drunk who might or might not have a dagger under his thick coat, his beard trimmed but his accent thick. Petra places it as somewhere far south, closer to the clusters of villages than the big cities. Maybe not a threat, definitely a nuisance, and still flirting with Jesse as he struggles to stay on his chair. They should've left as soon as they finished eating, but they didn't and Petra regrets that more and more, though not as much as she regrets leaving their armor at the temple. She keeps her gaze on him as Jesse manages to pull away from the table, not looking back at her as she slides back into the seat opposite of Petra.

"Trying to glare him to death? Looks like somebody's jealous." Jesse's tone is light, but it doesn't help. Petra turns her head to look at Jesse, frowning before staring down at her mug. Her hands are still moving, just like they have been since the traveler came in, but the carving isn't helping as much as it usually does.

"I'm not jealous." She shrugs, and she doesn't have to look up to know that Jesse's rolling her eyes. "You can talk to whoever you want."

"Then why are you carving a dagger?"

"I'm not carving a—" Petra's voice trails off as she glances down at her hands, only to furrow her brow at the half finished figure in her hands, the sharp pointy end accompanied by a barely defined handle. She blinks down at it before looking back up, not sure if the guy had been fidgeting that much when she was glaring at him or if he's just started. "...huh."

"You couldn't freak him out more if you charged him." Jesse's mouth smile gets a bit warmer, and even if it's brief, she sounds more amused than disappointed.

Mad, Petra can handle. Disappointed? Disappointment's as good as a death sentence.

"Good. Maybe next time, he won't act like you're here for him to look at. You're the only reason he's even still alive." Petra glances at him again, keeping her voice low. He seems entirely unaware, busy trying to figure out which way he should set the glass down.

She really does feel bad for Helga.

"Petra. He just wanted some directions. Okay, so maybe he's a little drunk, and maybe that was a really bad pickup line, but— that doesn't matter." Jesse leans a little more over the table, head in her hand as her elbow rests on the table, and Petra straightens up and pushes herself back into the booth, eyes tracing the grooves in the table as she does. "You've been testy today."

"That's just me." Petra would like to think that the conversations around them have lulled naturally, but she knows better.

" _Petra_."

"Jesse." Petra looks back down at her hands, sighing before she pockets both the knife and the chunk of wood. "...I'm sorry. I guess I've been a... little cranky lately."

"'A little?'" Jesse raises an eyebrow. "That's like saying you're a little stubborn."

"I am not—" Petra shakes her head as she cuts herself off. "Look, that's not the point. I've been a real grump and that's not fair to you."

"Hey, you're only human; everybody has off days." Jesse's voice is gentler as she lifts her head and reaches across the table to hold Petra's now empty hand, Petra's fingers curling around hers. "But if there's a reason, you can tell me."

The breeze outside dies down long enough for them to hear the fiddle being played across the street, and Petra lightly taps her finger against the top of the table.

"...I..." She knows how it'll sound. She feels stupid. So she goes ahead and is stupid. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Sure enough, Jesse straightens up, brows drawing together as she glances around the tavern, grip on Petra's hand tightening lightly.

"What other shoe? Did something happen?" Petra doesn't blame her. It wouldn't be the first time one of them had gotten into a little trouble and not told the others until things had almost gotten too far. She's better about her deals than she used to be, though. Any trouble they bring her isn't going to mess with the others.

"Not really— not yet, anyway." This isn't deal based. This is so much bigger and so much more constant, and she's not sure if she's going to annoy or worry Jesse more. "I just... doesn't this all feel too good to be true?"

"What do you mean?" Jesse's shoulders relax a bit, but her gaze is still just as fixed on Petra and her free hand's gone still.

Worry it is, then. Great.

"First we survive killing the Witherstorms, become the _new_ Order of the Stone, then survive Aiden trashing Sky City, manage to survive every other world we hop into, and _then_ we manage to overthrow the Old Builders and free hundreds of people and just stroll back home." Petra's voice doesn't get above a whisper, finger tapping faster as her stomach begins to ache. She knows it's not because of the dinner they just had. "And now everything's perfect. Nobody's made any world-eating monsters, we haven't been sucked up into any crazy worlds, everybody knows us... isn't it a little _too_ perfect?"

Jesse squeezes Petra's hand before letting it go, and Petra's quick to shove it in her pocket.

"Petra, we _died_. Nothing about it was easy." The words are slow and quiet, could be confused as light, but Jesse's face is anything but, grim and steady as she looks back at Petra, looking stiff even as she gives a weak grin. "Maybe we've just earned a break, after everything. There's no reason to waste it worrying about when something's going to pop up."

"It's just suspicious, okay? I don't like it."

Jesse only has so much patience, and it's a topic Petra had known from the start that she wouldn't like, so it's no surprise when her next sigh is more of a huff as her grin disappears.

"What _do_ you like?" Jesse's tone is sharper, and maybe it wouldn't sting as much if Jesse didn't look like she regretted it immediately afterwards. She has no reason to regret it; she's right.

"You." It's a stupid answer, a given answer, but it's the truth. Petra looks at the door as the bell attached to it jingles, a couple walking in and moving to sit at the both behind them. Her face feels warm when she meets Jesse's gaze again. "It's getting a little cramped in here. Can we take this outside?"

"...sure."

Petra reaches into her pocket as Jesse stands, the several golden coins clanking as she sets them on the plate, the extra silver settling with a quieter clink before she gets to her feet, walking by Jesse and holding the door open for her.

They get a nod from Helga, who looks like she's torn between begging for help and smiling through the pain as she cleans up the area around the evening's drunk, and Petra nods back before closing the door behind them.

Petra doesn't look up at Jesse as they walk side by side, eyes glued to the cobble path. She mentally counts all the smooth stones until they reach the edge of the nearby park, shaded from the setting sun by the thick line of trees, dark green branches swaying in the light and gentle wind.

"So, what's up?" Jesse's half leaning against one of the closest trees, her side resting against the bark, and the wind pulls at her hair just slightly. Even without her looking adorable, Petra wishes the words didn't sound as tired as they do.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a grouch. It’s just that every time it looks like things are looking up for us, they get worse. You…” Petra’s fingers pull at her sleeve before she rubs the side of her arm. The only thing she likes less than feeling weak is feeling stupid, and Jesse manages to make her feel both in the best and worst ways. She wishes she didn’t sound so defeated as she says it, if she’s going to say it at all, but the words don’t seem to want to cooperate. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

"Petra..." Jesse's expression softens and Petra can't stop her own shoulders from slumping slightly, her lips twitching upwards as Jesse chuckles. "Don't worry; I'm not exactly the type to toss myself at anybody who looks my way. I hope you don't worry like this every time some drunk flirts with me."

Petra rolls her eyes, small smile becoming a smirk. She can handle joking a lot better than she can handle being sappy.

"Ha-ha— wait, how many drunks have flirted with you?" The only answer Petra gets is a laugh. "Jesse?"

"Don't worry about it." Jesse crosses her arms over her chest as she grins at Petra. "It's silly for you to worry anyways."

"I'm not worried about the drunk." And then, dammit, she manages to kill the mood as she gets sappy again. "...I'm worried that something's going to happen to you, or that you're gonna realize what a mistake being with me is."

Jesse's grin crashes more than it falls, and it's replaced by the same grim face she saw a few minutes ago.

Petra really needs to stop saying what she's thinking. Or just stop talking in general.

"It is _not_ a mistake."

"Right, because this has been a great evening."

"It has." Jesse doesn't pause at the flat look she gets. "Dinner was great, and I can't think of anybody else I'd rather spend it with. I mean, yeah, you got a little extra grumpy when I started talking to that guy, but besides that, it's been really nice. I didn't even know you could have salad like that—“

Jesse stops talking, on account of it being harder to talk when she's being kissed.

Petra wonders if all of their conversations would go so well if she just kissed Jesse like this more often. One of her arms wraps around Jesse's waist while her other hand starts playing with her hair, and she's not surprised when both of Jesse's arms wrap around Petra and pull her closer.

Jesse's smiling when Petra pulls away, the two of them pressing their foreheads together, and Petra gets the feeling that she's been used.

If being used means kissing Jesse, though, she thinks she can stand being used a few more times.

"You’re rambling."

“Maybe a little.” Jesse glances around them, and as Petra does the same, the fame thing comes back into play when she sees several kids trying to look nonchalant deeper in the park. It’s hard to do, given that they’re all either hiding behind trees or standing around, and one of the younger kids starts focusing on the ball in her hands. It’s what she and Jesse get for stopping by the park, but that doesn’t stop Petra’s face from feeling warm again as she winces. “Wanna continue at home?”

Jesse grabs her hand again, and Petra smiles as she moves away from the trees, gently pulling Jesse with her.

"Sure.”


	263. Jungle (Jesse/Lukas)

So technically, it's not a date. They never outright said it was one, anyway.

All the same, there's something Jesse finds very endearing and very _Lukas_ about the way Lukas is ignoring him in favor of writing everything down, not hurt by how Jesse's fairly sure Lukas is doing it on purpose in the first place just to annoy him, if the grin's anything to go by.

It's a thicker journal than the one they have sitting in their treasure hall, the cover smooth and neater. Still, even if it's less nicked and burned, Lukas, back leaning against one of the trees that sits at the jungle's edge, almost looks like he did whenever they entered another world. He looks a lot healthier than he did then, with less cuts and bruises, and his armor isn't perpetually grime streaked and dirty, but it's enough to half make Jesse expect the sickly feeling that always comes with landing in the wrong world.

It's more than a relief when that feeling doesn't come.

"So now I'm playing second fiddle to a journal?" Jesse's fake pout hardly lasts for a second before his mouth twists into a toothy grin. "Gee Lukas, you sure know how to make a guy feel special."

Lukas rolls his eyes as he lifts his head, tapping the journal with the quill in his other hand as he straightens up.

"Hey, this could come in handy. Hopefully I'll be able to write some stuff down if we see any ocelots."

" _If_? Isn't that why we're here?" The breeze picks up slightly as Jesse speaks, the sound of leaves rustling slowly fading as the wind sweeps through the sea of vines and trees. "I thought you wanted to go and find some ocelots to watch?"

Lukas meets his light tone with a flat look before turning, moving past the tree he was leaning on and deeper into the jungle.

"Jesse, I know you used to live in a forest, but it's not going to be that easy." Jesse shrugs, moving faster for a moment so he can walk beside Lukas.

"Forests, jungles, they're basically the same thing. Jungles might have more monsters all the time, but we're ready if we run into any of them." The nice, nearly constant wind helps keep them from baking in their heavy armor on what's otherwise a muggy day. Lukas's armor may be more lightweight, but wool and leather heat up almost as quickly as metal. "And you're one to talk, mister 'I live in a city'."

"Jesse, you do know how hard it is to see an ocelot when it isn't in a cage or anything, right? They bolt the second they _think_ they hear you coming."

"Alright, ocelot expert." Jesse grins as Lukas rolls his eyes again. "What do you think we'll see if it's not gonna be ocelots? Besides trees."

"People have been talking a lot lately about the weird new birds they keep hearing." Jesse gets the feeling Lukas heard about them the same way he did: one part written complaints and three parts local gossip. "You think we'll see one?"

"I think people are just hearing spiders. They can make some pretty weird sounds."

"You mean creepy ones." Lukas shudders, glancing around them in a way that makes Jesse's grin grow until it feels like his face is going to split.

"You sound like Petra."

He's pretty sure Lukas is using up all his eye rolls and flat looks, but he's also pretty sure that Lukas is trying and failing to hide a smile, and the huff comes out more as a chuckle.

"Neither of us like monsters. Go figure."

* * *

 

The problem with the jungle, or any jungle, is that there's a murky area between safety and danger that can make it very hard to tell when they've stepped into the danger zone until danger's staring them right in the face. Monsters of all sorts thrive under the cover of the jungle, with it being said that the deepest areas were so dark and cluttered that monsters spawned there at all times of day. Not that a few monsters would be all that hard to deal with; it just isn't the sort of date either of them have in mind, so they try not to go too far once they actually enter the jungle. That makes the whole thing a search for a nice area where there are enough trees for cover without it being dense enough for there to be a spider colony right above their heads.

On the bright side, the jungle has a lot of misleadingly beautiful and calm areas to see.

The waterfall, constantly flowing water crashing and roaring down what looks more like a sheer drop then a steep hill, is a bit too loud to expect any ocelots, but Jesse manages to splash Lukas with some water on their way by, and he even almost dodges the water Lukas splashes back at him.

The odd gap in the trees that leads to a clearing of mycelium and podzol is pretty in its own right, if not oddly eerie with how quiet it is compared to the rest of the jungle. At one point Jesse thinks he hears a mooshroom, but the clearing isn't that large and he doesn't hear it again. The stop they make so Lukas can sketch some of the mushrooms is a short one, and neither of them walks slowly when they leave.

The next area they hit is relatively open, but it feels far more alive.

It's what looks like a natural clearing with a jungle twist, trees of all sizes still filling in or covering most of it. Unlike the waterfall, there's only a small watering hole in the middle, and the trees are tall enough to let them get a good view of any passing animals without being close enough for the animals to know they're watching. The trees are also tall enough for Jesse to have some fun helping Lukas try to climb up one, and the resulting pout is easily dealt with by some nuzzling that ends with Jesse getting poked in the nose several times with a quill tip.

The two of them spend roughly twenty minutes just lying side by side, and it might not be the most comfortable cuddling they've ever had, but the branch they're lying on is sturdy and large enough that it works, and watching the still and relatively clean water is relaxing.

By the time Jesse really feels comfortable, of course, Lukas stiffens and opens his journal as quietly as he can, attention on the several ocelots slowly creeping into the clearing, coats neat and looking impossibly soft as they head towards the water.

Their paw steps are nearly silent, and Jesse smiles as Lukas’s fingers twitch, hesitating before starting to write.

The scratching of the quill is slow and steady, nearly silent as Lukas tilts his head slightly to look down at the ocelots. While Jesse doesn't loosen his grip, the hand he has on Lukas's arm moves to his neck, Lukas stiffening for a second but not moving to look back at him as Jesse's fingers trace invisible circles on his skin.

After a few minutes, as well as after getting a slightly cold nose pressed against his neck and a few mumbles that don't actually mean anything muttered into his ear, Lukas gives in, pushing the journal the slightest bit away as he sets the quill down inside it before leaning a bit more in to Jesse, wrapping one of his arms around Jesse's waist, something easier said than done thanks to the armor, after a few moments.

And now it's utterly perfect.

It stays perfect for little less than a minute, because after little less than a minute, Lukas's journal shifts.

And maybe that doesn't like something that should mean much, but as the little book shifts, the quill inside it shifts, and the pages shift, and as the journal tips to the side, the book starts to close on itself. As it does, it's also slipping off the branch, which means it slips through the leaves, and by the time Lukas notices, the book's nearly already falling and the ocelots below are all stiff and crouching. Jesse only knows that Lukas notices because the only way he notices any of this is by Lukas's startled yelp as he stiffens before lunging for the journal.

The problem here is that he's lunging off the tree and onto the ground, and the moment where the fall begins seems to go by far too fast while taking far too long.

Not that Jesse just sits by and watches Lukas tumble to the ground, but as Jesse lunges to try to grab Lukas, one hand holding onto the branch, his fingers curl around empty air and a fistful of leaves, barely missing Lukas's ankle, and the book loudly snaps shut and tumbles to the ground, slipping out of Lukas's grip.

Jesse jumps off the branch, landing right after Lukas does and right as the ocelots all bolt.

Lukas lands with a sloppy roll, but he doesn't seem hurt as he gets to his feet the next second, something Jesse can't quite claim with the way his ankle is yelling at him.

"Hey!"

For a moment Jesse thinks Lukas is too, but he’s not looking at him. He’s looking at the thick mix of leaves and vines, and that’s when Jesse notices that the journal isn’t anywhere to be seen. That doesn’t mean he’s expecting it when Lukas starts sprinting away from him.

"Lukas!"

Lukas doesn't even pause, already disappearing into the brush, and Jesse follows right behind him, brow furrowing as he does.

At least he knows Lukas isn't hurt too badly, if he's ready to go running off after an ocelot.

The way his ankle is starting to throb, Jesse gets the feeling he’s not as ready to do the same, but that doesn’t matter. He’s only chasing Lukas.

It doesn’t keep plants from snagging on his armor, trying to hold him back, or things managing to jab him in the head as he tries to run through all of it anyway. He’s been meaning to get a helmet, really he has, he just never actually goes and does it. He gets the feeling, as another plant snaps back and slaps him in the eyes, that he’s paying for it now.

It’s all slowing him down, from the vines that his feet get caught on to the bushes that are practically trying to crawl into his armor, and all he can hope is that Lukas is running in a fairly straight line because it’s much darker here and the sudden change in lighting makes seeing anything more than a foot in front of his face almost impossible. His ankle makes him even slower and Jesse has to stop one time, one too many, to catch his breath and actually toss away some of the plants dragging him down.

Jesse’s almost ready to admit that he’s lost Lukas when it starts to get a bit brighter and he can hear Lukas panting up ahead, and his shoulders relax as he starts running faster, his ankle protesting and Jesse not caring in the slightest about it.

"Lukas! Are you—" His boots dig into the soft dirt as he stops, body freezing as he pushes aside a thick bush, its leaves curling around his fingers. "Whoa."

While the trees aren't any sparser, close together and towering as they block out the sky, the grass comes to a stop, a crude gravel and stone path leading down the hill and towards what looks entirely foreign and extremely familiar.

Jesse tilts his head back as his eyes trail up the cracked and chipped stone, lips twitching up as he stares up at the mossy and pointed top. The trees are huge, but the mass of mossy bricks and pillars isn't small by any means, the almost entirely plant covered top nearly reaching what looks like a thick and endless canopy that Jesse thinks makes up the top of the jungle.

Well, they wanted to see something interesting.

They just hadn't been thinking of a giant temple.

His grin weakens a little as he looks back at Lukas, whose breathing’s still a little quick.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? O-oh, yeah, yeah." Lukas turns his head to look at the temple as he briefly lifts the journal, quill hanging limply from his other hand. "Sorry about that. They just dropped it and ran in there. Guess they realized they didn't want it. I thought you guys found the only temple in this jungle?"

"We never actually checked; we were too busy with the city for a while." Jesse shrugs, crossing his arms as his mouth slowly twitches into a grin. "We only found that one because of Ivor, and after that we didn't have time to poke around for others."

"What are the odds there's another portal in there?"

There really hasn't been much about the Old Builders that Harper's been willing to tell them. Maybe the temple they found was the only one, or maybe there are a dozen temples scattered around their world, each leading to some other crazy world instead of straight to the portal network.

"Even if there is, it can't suck us in. If we find a portal, we just... won't go in until we talk to the others about it." Jesse scratches the back of his head as he glances up at the top of the temple again. "I'd be more worried about p— dispensers. Remember the first time we were at the Order’s old temple? If we're lucky, this one won't have as many arrows. I don't think a portal can be a trap, though."

"That's what it wants you to think." Lukas is grinning, but he's giving Jesse the same looks Jesse's giving him. They weren't exactly expecting a temple, after all.

On one hand, while Jesse has his armor, the sword he has on him is a regular iron sword, because he thought all they'd have to worry about would be spiders and his usual adventuring one seemed like overkill for some ocelot watching, and his ankle is throbbing in a way that probably doesn't mean anything but will somehow throw him off if they do get into a fight.

On the other, temples like this tend to be abandoned, Jesse knows Lukas has a full stack of arrows and his bow on him, and there's a journal that gives Jesse another excuse to cuddle up beside Lukas at stake.

"Whether it wants us to think that or not, we have a journal to get." Whatever reply Lukas is about to give becomes a yelp as Jesse grabs his arm, the yelp devolving into laughter as he's tugged across the clearing.


	264. Chances

For once in his life, Aiden's managed to get himself in trouble for what he _didn't_ do.

Or, he guesses, it's more like what he can't do.

His wrists ache, but it keeps him from being entirely numb. He'd like to say he can't think, but right now that's all he can do. After he doesn't know how long of monotony, of staring at unchanging walls and seeing and hearing people that don't exist, it was more than a little surprising when a guard actually entered his cell, when there was actually light in the cell with no windows and the world’s tightest door, the torches long since burned out and cold.

Not to say that it was the good kind of surprise, seeing as how Reginald's still standing guard at the door and giving Aiden a look he can't read.

He hasn't seen anybody, anybody real and somebody that he can feel, in what he thinks are weeks but might be months. He's lucky enough if he can glimpse somebody's fingers when he's given his meal for the day. Nothing's happened, as far as he knows, and he hasn't tried to pull anything, but there's no denying that the rope digging into his skin is real or that Reginald's very tight grip existed.

Why now? What's so special about now?

He feels like he's waiting for his death to stroll in because he knows he is. There's only person they can be waiting for, after all, and she won't be happy to see Aiden unless he's dead.

They've finally realized keeping him alive isn't worth anything.

It was one thing when he built the new city with Maya and Gill as "community service", but as soon as they finished, they were separated and jailed. Well, Aiden was. He knows he's the only one who got solitary confinement, and with any luck Maya and Gill got to share one of the more livable cells. There are plenty of empty ones, and he should know; the jail was the last building they worked on.

(And there's a small little part of him, one he thinks most of the time has finally been snuffed out, that's angry, because they had every chance to make the jail easy to break out of, make the bars just a little bit weaker or the ground a little bit softer, but they didn't. They did everything they were asked to do, made the jail as strong and sturdy as they could, and they were still mistrusted and despised, tossed right into their last creation like they hadn't built the damn thing.)

He doesn't know where they are now. For all he knows, with how thick the walls of his cell are, they're still right where he last saw them, but he didn't hear anything when Reginald opened the door.

Maybe he wasn't listening hard enough, but he gets the feeling that's not the problem. The reason he can't hear them is the reason no one's going to be hearing from him in a while.

And if Maya and Gill weren't seen as useful enough —and that little part of him feels bigger, louder, hotter, fiery and angry because that's not a reason to kill people, that's not a reason to kill the only best friends he had left, the ones whose lives he ruined, people who deserved better—, what chance does he have?

The food he's been getting has been small and minimal at best, and a lack of walking room has led to him spending most of his time on the cot. He's skin and bones and more likely to break if he swings a pick than break anything. And if he can't do work, and if they're tired of toying with him and watching him lose his mind, that means he's done.

And Aiden knows he's lucky, in a twisted way that doesn't feel very lucky, that she hasn't ended him sooner, that he's still alive, but he's the guy who set her city on fire and tried to kill her. It's already clear that whatever it is is going to be drawn out and painful, punishment or execution, never mind humiliating.

If he was in her shoes, it's what he would do, and it's what's going to happen.

Aiden's not sure how long he stares at the torch Reggie set on the wall, only that his own thoughts come dangerously close to drowning him out before he can be killed by anybody else, before faint footsteps can be heard from the hall.

Reginald opens the door as soon as the footsteps stop, and while Aiden's not surprised to see Isa, staring him down like he's something on the bottom of her shoe, he's not expecting Milo to enter the room right behind her, looking at Aiden with a neutral look that manages to almost look soft when compared to the ones Reggie and Isa are giving him.

It's easy for Aiden to forget that Isa's a co-ruler now, and he almost wonders why Milo's here for his execution before remembering that Sky City was Milo's home too and that he's probably just as eager to watch Aiden squirm.

Isa’s tone is pure ice, cold and biting and with a sting he expects but still flinches at.

"It has come to our attention that letting you sit in your cell all day isn't necessarily productive." Aiden’s fingers curl into fists behind him, the rope digging into him more as he tries to keep his shoulders square.

"Congratulations." Aiden doesn’t look away from Milo, waiting for either Reginald or Isa to pull a sword on him. They don’t. "It looks like you get one more chance."

Milo may be nothing like Isa, but Aiden never had him pegged as a psychopath, and the last statement doesn’t sound like it ties very well into any sort of execution or beating. In fact, the three of them are all just sort of staring at him, and it dawns on Aiden that they’re not going to draw their swords. Isa glances from Aiden to Milo, her eyes narrowing.

"We're giving you the opportunity to earn one." Her tone is harsher, almost, like she wants to spit the words out instead of say them.

And Aiden knows that there are strings attached, from the way Isa seems rigid enough to snap and the way her tone is as sharp as any sword, he knows it not because he's clever but because they're being dangled right in front of him and he knows it's still far better than he deserves.

"What do I have to do?"

"Show us that there is something inside you that is good." Unspoken but clear is the underlying threat of what will happen if he fails, and he knows Isa will run him through herself with a sword if it comes down to it. "That there is something inside you that's worth saving. Show us that this isn't a giant mistake, and it'll be a start."

And it’s tempting. It is so, so tempting. It’s like the torch, bright and inviting and held out of his reach for him to look at but not have. Not really. Because this doesn’t add up, because this jail is dark and silent when he knows it shouldn’t be.

"...but Maya and Gill—"

"Are already working on theirs. Is that going to be a problem?" Milo’s tone is actually a nice change from Isa’s, calmer and almost convincing enough for Aiden to think he actually cares for a moment.

The words shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as they do. Sure, it could be a lie, everything could be lies, but why wouldn’t they taunt him? Why wouldn’t they flaunt the deaths of his best friends?

Because if they’re alive, then there’s nothing to flaunt.

"N-no." He shakes his head, lifting it more as his shoulders relax. "No."

"Good." And Isa’s voice is an unpleasant change from Milo’s. "Reginald will take you to a recently built home that we feel will be sufficient before untying you. For the foreseeable future, he will ensure that you work in the mines and that you don't try to cause trouble."

Aiden knows how loyal Reggie is to Isa, and wonders if that’s all that’ll keep him from killing Aiden.

"But I—" Aiden grimaces. Angry, so angry, so weak, so useless. "I don't even know if I'll be able to mine now."

"Then you'll have to make do. If you don't, then there's little reason to keep you out of your cell." Isa doesn’t soften, but she does pause, letting out a quiet sigh before straightening up more, her voice quieter but no softer. "This isn't going to be easy. Am I understood?"

And all Aiden can do is nod.

* * *

 

Milo feels that Isa’s scowl perfectly complements his own grin as Reginald and Aiden blend into the slow but steady early morning activity of the city.

"This is a giant mistake." Isa’s fingers are twitching, her arms folded behind her back, and Milo knows she’s trying hard to keep from pacing. "He won't wait a day before running or creating more havoc."

"So?" He shrugs as they move away from the jail, walking on the shorter and less crowded path to their offices. "If he runs, let him run. And if he tries to pull something... well, we'll be ready for him. Isn't that why Reginald's keeping an eye on him?"

"This is a nightmare."

"And here I was thinking that Jesse had the right idea. It might even be fun."

"Fun? _Fun_?" Isa raises an eyebrow as she turns her head to look at Milo. "Are you insane? He's a menace. This is going to come back to bite us."

"Maybe." Milo’s grin grows wider and toothier as he looks over his shoulder and back at their now empty jail. "Maybe not."

"You know how much I love constant uncertainty." Isa’s shoulders drop slightly, but they aren’t slumped, stiff and as rigid as the rest of her as her arms rest at her sides, and her face makes it look like she just ate one of the horribly sour fruits they’d discovered recently.

"Do I? I'm not sure that I do."

Milo’s chuckles become outright laughter at Isa’s glare.

It may be a risk, but it’s far more interesting than the weeks of paperwork they’ve had to deal with. Shaking things up a little couldn’t hurt anything.


	265. Ocean (Em/Nell)

Moonlight shines through the glass doors the way it shines onto the beach, the sand looking almost as pale as the quartz floor does. The sea of sand looks smooth, save for the occasional shells that look like they're glowing in the moonlight and the dark colored crabs that scurry along the shore, waves from the actual sea crashing into it at a steady pace that seems to do little more than leave the sand looking wet and even smoother. The waves themselves look like glass until they hit the shore, turning into foam and creating sounds far too relaxing for any crash.

It's a great view, one that looks too calm and too peaceful but that's okay because every other view looks like that to Em, but it's one she could get almost anywhere around here. The ocean is huge, seemingly endless and constantly moving, and there are still people crazy enough to not only live by it, but swim in it regularly like it's a lake. She's heard of oceans before, but it's not like there was ever enough water to swim in like this near her farm, and the games only tried to drown them all. Seeing it in person is something else.

Em rests the back of her head against the headboard, wet hair sticking to her neck and the dark oak as she looks away from the sea and down at the light stretching across the floor, gaze stopping where it stops just before the red, fluffy carpet that's surprisingly devoid of sand. There's a short sigh before Em shifts, blankets rustling quietly against each other as she lies her head down on the pillow. They continue to move after she stops, a light mumble coming from beside Em as Nell's arms tighten for a moment around her middle.

One of the crazy people who’s okay with living by the enormous mass of trouble waiting to happen also happens to like using Em as a giant teddy bear. Go figure.

Nell always came across as a person with a... different lifestyle, but Em had never considered that she'd been taken from paradise. Sure, the occasional crazy weather is apparently a concern, but not enough for Nell's family to move away from the lush vegetation or the otherwise wonderful conditions.

But maybe Em's biased. She doesn't come from any sort of paradise.

A giant dust bowl filled with crops, dirt roads, and basic and boring houses surrounded by basic and boring people isn't something she wants to go back to.

But that's where she'd be, if Jesse didn't offer to let her join the Order, and she'd probably be all alone again.

But despite what she could have, Nell doesn’t live here. They’re both just visiting, with Nell’s parents and ridiculous number of siblings being nice enough to let them stay. Nell lives with Em, and Em has no idea why. Nell already lost paradise once, and while she spent a few weeks here, it wasn’t even two months before she moved in with Em. Of all the people to give up living in such a nice place, living with such a large and loving family, for, Em knows she’s the wrong one.

Not that the giant break that's getting kidnapped and forced to play murder games has stopped Nell, who swims like a fish. She glides through the water, movements all smooth and fast without being choppy, while Em feels like she swims like a fish out of water, swim practical but rough and sloppy. She's not in any danger of drowning, but there's nothing nice about her swimming either.

The water is Nell's friend, but it does nothing but push against Em, no matter what she does. It feels like a struggle it shouldn't be when Nell manages to swim circles around her.

And that's why they swam until long after the sun went down and why, even after using ridiculously warm and large towels, they're both soaked to the bone in a way Em didn't know people could get. It's also why Nell's asleep before she is, something that doesn't happen often, and—

"Mmph? Em?" Em stiffens as Nell lifts her head, her own wet hair practically plastered to the side of her face, her eyes barely open and her words slurring together. "Why're you...? What's up?"

And that’s when Em realizes that her fingers had been tapping against the mattress until Nell spoke up.

"Nothing." Nell doesn't move, still squinting at Em in a way that makes it clear she believes that as much as she believes that water’s dry, and Em's mouth moves before she can think. "I’m sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

She wants to act like she doesn't know where that came from, but, like noticing how nice everything is, it's sort of been building up all day. Because she was really crappy to Nell even when they were on the same team, but before that, when they were on different teams...

Yeah, no, she's apologizing for all of that. Given everything Nell could have, being with Em seems like a giant mistake, especially because of what Em's already done. Anybody else would want to be as many worlds away from her as possible.

"...so? I did the same things. I mean, I tried. Totally failed, but, y'know, different problem. Everybody was doing that stuff in the games." The thing is, Nell isn't exactly anybody else. She's Nell, which is nice, but she doesn't seem to understand what's best for her is not cuddling with the person who tried to, and did, kill her multiple times. "What's this really about?"

But Em knows one thing she can't brush off.

"I'm sorry I tried to throw you in the lava."

And Nell doesn't reply as quickly. The waves sound louder, the cries of a nearby seagull piercing and too close, as Nell's eyes squeeze shut.

"It's—" Nell grimaces before she sighs, resting her chin on Em's arm for a moment. "Come on, we talked about this. It's not your fault. You were just doing what anybody else would."

And she's not supposed to tell Em that. She's supposed to tell Em that Em's a horrible person and that Nell never wants to see her again, but she doesn't.

"It's not like you can change what you did. You shouldn't worry about it." Instead of yelling at her, Em gets a kiss on the cheek before Nell shifts closer to her and holds onto her even tighter. Em opens her mouth before sighing again, giving a soft smile as she brushes Nell's hair off of her cheek. She knows it's not going to be the last time they talk about it, but along with being soaked to the bone, they're both exhausted. Not that Em thinks it'll go much differently when they're both wide awake.

Nell's really something else.


	266. Terror

In the beginning, Jesse is just Jesse.

And that's about all she knows.

She wanders in a forest —though she doesn't know the word for the giant group of trees until later—, and she's alone. Until she isn't. It's not that she finds them so much as they find her, and while it's the first time Jesse hears Axel and Olivia bicker, it's not the last.

But that's okay, because they take her in and listening to them feels like the most natural thing in the world, even though she does usually have to break up their worse arguments.

She ends up living almost right between them, Olivia helping her build a tree house of her own while Axel pretends to grumble about spiders.

It's not that she doesn't think his house is cool; it's just that the idea of living underground doesn't interest her the way living in a tree does. Being able to build around a tree sounds and looks neat, and this way she doesn't have to worry about a monster falling into her home.

And monsters are very much a problem in a forest where there are more than enough trees to block out the sunlight.

Jesse learns quickly not to leave the door open, and especially not at night.

The more she learns, the more she realizes how frustrating it probably is to constantly have to tell and teach her stuff that's basic and simple. Night is bad, and would be much worse if Olivia didn't show her how to keep the monsters away with the flick of a lever. Sure, they can still lurch towards her house from the inky shadows the forest makes at night, but at least the tree house itself is safe.

Everything is so new, so unfamiliar and interesting, and there's so much she hasn't seen or done yet.

At first, she worries about wandering again. About straying just a little too far and not being able to tell the trees apart, about leaving her friends behind and not being able to get back to them. The world seems endless and confined at the same time, and it’s an odd feeling.

But time moves on, and there are new competitions, new silly things for them to try out and different stories to hear. She finds a piglet that's more than happy to go home with her, and he fits right in as one of her best friends, and maybe even the one she's closest to. (She jokes one time that he's not allowed to tell Axel or Olivia, though. They might get jealous.) There are more things to build, more stuff to build with, and more people to play against.

The forest becomes familiar while the town seems almost exotic in how different it is, and she almost always knows who to get back home. Winning becomes more of a priority, and getting lost sounds like a silly thing to worry about.

* * *

 

Jesse's tree house isn't tall enough for the height to really bother her, but it doesn't keep her from crying the first time she trudges home after the Witherstorm. She has nightmares filled with violent and deafening storms and falling, falling too fast but not fast enough, not enough to save him. Soon enough it doesn't matter, because she lives in a new city and is part of an order, _the_ Order, the tree house going forgotten, but the nightmares don't slow down or stop coming, the tears don't stop, and she cries herself to sleep more than she'll ever let anyone know.

* * *

 

A city burns because of Jesse, a city in the sky above a void, a city overrun with monsters.

And one of her friends has just been kicked off, and watching the start of his fall was painfully and horribly familiar in a way that makes her want to strangle Aiden and somehow yank Lukas back at the same time, something she doesn't get to do because then she's falling all over again.

The void isn't really a void, which makes it so much better and so much worse, and she doesn't waste any time in looking for Lukas, even as Isa struggles with seeing so much land at once, because they landed in the water but where is he, Jesse doesn't see him, and this can't happen, not again, _not again—_

And then he's there, and he's alive, he's breathing and looking at her and it's okay.

And then she's terrified because he's hurt, he fell from so high and they're all lucky they're not dead, but she sees the way he winces, sees the way his movements are more than just a little careful and stiff, and her blood runs cold a second time. This is far too familiar too, but at least his breathing doesn't slow. He's hurt, but he stays hurt, and he doesn't fade.

 _Now_ she's able and ready to go back up and strangle Aiden.

* * *

 

Almost dying becomes regular.

Then people die and come back, and it's a whole new, horrible, twisted game.

Jesse tries to play fair, but there's nothing fair about it when Hadrian shows her who he has locked up.

And the choice he gives her isn't a choice and he knows it. It's almost enough to make her want to refuse, just to get back at him, but that's not really an option. For once, Jesse needs to pay for her mistakes.

She's never had to deal with mind control, with being forced to be a puppet. She only had to stand there and watch when they died, when their blood splattered the ground and their inventories went flying.

She's gotten them lost and killed.

(Even Cassie Rose managed to keep her real best friend safe and alive. That’s more than Jesse’s done.)

She's a bad friend and a terrible leader. At least this way, she might actually be able to finally do something for them besides get them into more trouble.

Jesse knows he could kill them, could murder them all a dozen painful ways and still be able to set them free in the morning, but that doesn't change that she knows he _will_ if she doesn't work with him.

When she runs back to the others, she half expects Ivor, Petra, and Lukas to have been snatched up and locked away too.


	267. Blanket (Aiden/Jesse)

When Aiden wakes up, shifting before he opens his eyes, he's convinced that his blanket is either heavier than he remembers it being or that it's been replaced by a soft bag of bricks.

When he opens his eyes, it turns out that his blanket is the same as it was a few hours ago, only that now it's on top of Jesse. It's also on top of Aiden, by extension, but Jesse seems to be trying her hardest to cover as much of him as she can, something easier said than done thanks to her height, her grip firm but not too tight and her head tucked beneath his.

If she was even just the tiniest bit taller, he'd probably have a mouth full of hair right now. Still, despite being shorter than him, he really doesn't think there's any part of him that she isn't clinging to, or not any part that he can move without risking waking her up.

He doesn't remember waking up, which means Jesse's stealthier than she should be, because Aiden's not a deep sleeper and he'd like to think that he'd notice her latching onto and lying on him like he's some sort of teddy bear, and it also means she didn't have any nightmares.

(He's not a deep sleeper. She's a loud screamer. It's not a good combination, not when it comes to sleeping well or at all some nights, but it's a small price to pay if it means making sure he can comfort Jesse. She's attacked him a few times, tackled him or gone for his throat, thinking he was someone else, but he's never gotten hurt and he can't blame her.)

No nightmares means Aiden'll be here for a while; he doesn't mind. He doesn't have work today and Jesse hardly ever gets enough sleep.

A few months ago, he'd have woken up, cold and alone, on a thin cot that was more rips and holes than it was an actual cot, in a tiny room with no sunlight. He'd stare at the cracks in the stone and, if he was lucky, get to listen to a muffled storm. Maybe even get to hear a rat scurrying past the door. With winter starting to creep in, it'd be even colder now.

It's not a life he misses.

But it's where he'd be if it weren't for Jesse— and he doesn't just mean that he wouldn't be here. He'd still be in prison, behind thick bars and thicker walls, if she hadn't taken them off of Isa's hands when she did.

As far as he knows, Maya and Gill have a home near the farm Gill's family owns. It's more than they ever had in jail. And from the start, Jesse's let him stay here. He's not dumb enough to think that most of it wasn't, and still isn't, out of pity, out of guilt about the treatment they got in jail, but that doesn't change that Jesse's done more for him than some people do for their closest friends.

Maybe he shouldn't be here.

But it's warm. It's inviting and cozy just like she is and the idea of leaving carries a hollow feel to it that Aiden's quick to push aside.

Where else would he be? The further away he stays from Gill and Maya, the better. He's not ruining their lives again, and leaving means being lonely. Oh, he doesn't think he's not selfish. He is. He knows it. Jesse makes him feel happy, safe, and solitary confinement was as good a reminder as Lukas's leaving that Aiden can't handle being alone.

She'd be happier if he left.

And he wouldn't be being used as a mattress.

(Which doesn't feel like as much of a bonus as maybe it should. Part of him's more concerned about how comfortable Jesse is. Out of prison or not, he still doesn't eat much, and he can't imagine that lying on bony ribs is any fun.)

Aiden exhales sharply through his nose as he lets his head rest back on the pillow with a little more force than probably necessary, holding his breath as Jesse mumbles before nuzzling his chest. She goes quiet and still a few moments later, and he slowly moves a hand to play with part of Jesse’s hair.

He is _not_ leaving.

Jesse's told him before that she wants him to stay. That he makes her happy.

(And for a long time, he thought she was lying. Maybe part of him still does. But she sounds like she really believes it, like she means it, even if he can’t figure out for the life of him how somebody like him could make her even remotely happy.)

He has a job. It doesn't pay much, but it's enough, and even if Jesse won't accept the coins, it doesn't stop him from finding ways to leave them in her room, or near one of the chests where the Order's finances are kept. He's not a leech.

(And he is _not_ a pet, as much as he heard the word during his first few weeks at the temple. He knows Jesse's friends are just as confused as he is about why she bothers to keep him around, but Jesse's made it abundantly clear that when it comes to what he is, a pet isn't anywhere close. Besides, even with as much as she's done for him, he has enough dignity that he wouldn't stay if that were the case.

He stays because Jesse asks him to, because he cares about her and she seems to care about him for some weird reason. But it's not because he's a pet, because he isn't.)

Besides, when it comes down to it, there's something he can do. He can help with the nightmares. It doesn't sound like much, and maybe it isn't, but it’s one of the best things he can do, and he knows how Jesse tries to hide the nightmares, the nights spent not sleeping, from the others. He knows how much she’d rather just not sleep at all than take the potion Ivor gives her to keep her from dreaming. None of her friends really get to deal with the rough nights when they happen.

On adventures, they're probably either in too much trouble to worry about bad dreams and flashbacks or don't stay out long enough to have to worry about sleep at all. Aiden doesn't think he can comfort Jesse better than her closest friends can, but at least he's here to try.

He's not sure what it means, that she doesn't try to hide her nightmares from him.

(It's probably because he's caused at least half of them. And it’s not okay, not really, but beating himself up about it won’t solve anything. The least he can do is try to fix his mess.)

Bottom line, though, she makes him happy. The least he can really do is return the favor.


	268. Priorities

Reginald's quill taps against the desk as he looks away from the building request, most of which are approved automatically so long as more dangerous materials aren't involved, and to the window. What little of the road and nearby orchard he can see appears to be empty, the occasional breeze tugging on the branches and making them sway as the tiny lone cloud in the sky does its best to stay away from the sun.

It's a beautiful day, and the paperwork's been simple and easy. By all means, he should be feeling the best he has in weeks.

Leave it to him to manage to instead be at an all-time low.

It isn't productive, and it doesn't help anything. What's bothering him is stupid, plain and simple, and he knows it.

He just had no idea how to deal with it.

Earlier that week, he realized he'd been getting shorter and shorter with Milo, being curt and only polite enough to not be seen as outright rude. The realization hasn't fixed the problem; if anything, it's made things even worse.

It's his job to listen to Milo just as much as he listens to Isa, to treat him with the same respect and consideration that he does her. It's odd, working for two leaders at the same time, and it was even harder when they couldn't agree on anything, but it seems to be an arrangement that makes the people happy. It's what Jesse suggested, and this way, there are no hard feelings from either "side".

That's not to say that Reginald would be bitter or struggle to be loyal if Milo had been made the leader while Isa was dethroned... only that he would, if he didn't resign immediately.

Granted, if Isa had stayed in power, and been the only one with power, it's likely there would've been a rebellion of some sort, even if it was just Milo and his colleagues leaving to make their own settlement. Given how little they knew about defending themselves, they probably wouldn't have lasted the first night.

And, to be fair to both of them, neither of their styles seem very practical anymore alone. Milo's far too reckless, and Isa too protective. Monsters present a danger their floating, well-lit city never had, a danger Reginald's been trying to take care of every night since their move to the ground, but Isa's habits of sticking to what worked in Sky City aren't exactly fair. After all, things like dirt and sand are no longer in short supply, and there's far more room for anyone to build almost anything they want.

They work well together, Milo helping Isa see how and when she's just being stingy and cautious and Isa helping Milo see what dangers and threats they need to be careful about.

So why does it sit wrong with Reginald, now that their arguments and debates have become harmless bickering? Back then, trying to play mediator was even harder than taking care of Benedict.

Shouldn't he be happy his leaders are getting along?

It makes his work easier, means the people are safer than they were with two opposing leaders, and they both seem genuinely happy. It's better than watching both of them slowly fall apart under the stress of running and protecting a city in a world where they have no idea what to really expect.

And Isa herself seems plenty happy with the lack of actual arguing, almost always grinning or smirking as they bicker. It's nice, to see her happy, to see her less stressed than she used to be.

She seemed happy when she was being tricked by the Blaze Rods, though. She'd been more than interested in the idea of other worlds, and had been more than pleased to work with the three new arrivals to protect the city from the tyrants Aiden warned her about. Reginald had had a bad feeling about it from the start too.

Look how well that turned out.

Milo was in a position where he had far more power than the Blaze Rods did, and they'd still managed to burn an entire city down and flood it with monsters.

And no one in Sky City had ever done anything to them. The Blaze Rods had just been on a twisted power trip, but Milo...

Well, even before he'd become co-leader of their new city, everyone knew Milo. There had only been one inn, after all. And back then, one block of dirt had meant a lot.

There'd also been Milo's apparent distaste for Isa when construction of the new city began, and more than one of the earlier debates had involved Isa being called a tyrant.

If anyone would have a reason to make such a switch, to go from despising Isa to liking her to gain her trust, it would be Milo. What's there to say that he isn't planning on turning on her any day now?

Well, because it's not exactly smart. In the beginning, the people were disorganized and scared, and by extension the guard was being run ragged trying to protect everyone while getting construction started. It had just become apparent that Isa had been wrong, that beneath them had always been an entire world for them to live on, instead of a bottomless void.

If there was ever a perfect time for taking power from Isa, Jesse's instructions and advice be damned, it'd have been then.

So, clearly, if Milo's competent, and this is the man who was able to cover up an entire organization dedicated to building, he'd have acted much sooner if he wanted to be rid of Isa.

Which means he’s likely legitimately just warming up to her as a person. It’s not hard to do.

After all, Reginald knows better than anyone else how easy it is to warm up to her personality. He’s known her for almost as long as he can remember, and there hasn’t been a time since that he hasn’t held her in high regard.

Admittedly, a portion of that was just amazement at what she could do and how she could juggle everything tossed her way. It still is, because there's no one like Isa. And everyone was amazed by Isa. Most of them are still awed by her.

But they didn't know her like he did. Few people do. Milo is rapidly becoming one of those people, and Reginald feels both like an unnecessary party to most of their interactions and like one that's been shoved aside. Isa still talks to him like she always did, confides in him and sometimes even does her paperwork alongside him while he does his, but those interactions have become shorter and rarer. Of course, having to build an entire city from scratch takes up quite a bit of time, but even when things have begun to slow down, Milo's there to take up a healthy portion of her free time.

Not that Isa can't decide who she spends her time with and how much.

It's just that Reginald's scared of losing his only friend.

Really, it's pathetic.

But save for her, he's not particularly close to too many people, or anyone. He's on cordial terms with all the guards, and some are warmer than others, but he knows the difference between a friend and an acquaintance. If he doesn't want to lose the one friend he has, though, he might just have to stop being bitter and get better at sharing.

"Reginald! There you are!" Reginald stiffens as the door opens, quill going still as he turns his head to look at Milo, grinning but panting slightly as he stands in the doorway, an odd but pretty collection of flowers in one hand. "Have you seen Isa? I'm afraid I've lost track of her."

Reginald glances at the window again before looking back to Milo.

"...she went for a walk in the gardens a few minutes ago. She should still be there." Just because the view from his window is limited doesn't mean he misses everything. Knowing Isa's whereabouts, even when he's not by her side, is a top priority.

"Thank you!" Milo turns with the same energy he entered, and he's just as quick to grab the door frame with his free hand before he can start moving, bringing himself to a halt as he looks over his shoulder at Reginald. "Before I go— you've been rather, er, _off_ lately. Was it something I did? Did I... say something?"

"Not at all." His smile isn't as easy to make as it should be, feeling too forced and too strained and too small, but it's better than nothing. "It's just that, between the paperwork during the day and dealing with the monsters at night, my schedule's been pretty busy. I... guess I've been a lot more tired than I thought. I'm sorry if I've been rude."

"Nonsense. Everyone has their limits." Milo shakes his head, smirking as he raises an eyebrow. "You _do_ know it's okay to ask for a break now and then, right?"

"Right." The word is drawled, drier than it's supposed to be, but Milo seems to find it funny, chuckling before he turns and closes the door behind him, leaving Reginald alone again.

Reginald's quill taps against the desk for several moments as he stares at the door before he chuckles quietly, smiling to himself as he looks back down at the dearly neglected paperwork.

Sharing. He can do sharing.


	269. Renew (Lukas/Aiden)

Lukas doesn't want to think about how he’s back in Sky City’s world.

Well, to be honest, he doesn't want to be here at all, and especially not because of why he's really here.

Not that that's here or there. He isn't particularly fond of Sky City, or Ground City or whatever they’re calling the new one, though that's not really the fault of Isa, Milo, or any of their people. His distaste has more to do with the jail he's standing in front of, the one he had to get permission to visit and almost didn't look for.

It's not like he got lost in the portal network again or like he's here against his will. He walked here on his own for a reason. Of course, if he wants to, he can turn around and walk away, and that'll be that. Jesse might have suggested coming here, but that doesn't mean she'll push it if Lukas chickens out. He could just go back to the temple and not say anything at all and let her draw her own conclusions.

Because the thing that'll cheer Lukas right up is disappointing Jesse by being a coward again.

But it's not like he's not going in because he's scared.

It's because he's angry.

He wants to go in there and kill Aiden. Hell, he wants to go in there and kill Maya and Gill while he's at it. He wants to just grab them by their throats and shake them back and forth because _what were they thinking, what's wrong with them, how could they ever think destroying a city would be a good idea, why would they leave him—_

Lukas hisses a curse through his teeth as he winces, relaxing his hand as he looks down at it only to see that his fingers were cutting into his hand, blood dotting his palm. He grimaces as he wipes it off on his jacket, fingers tightening around the key he has in his other hand.

Again, not here or there. He's stalling, and wasting time doesn't make him any less of an idiot than going in there will.

Unsurprisingly, the creak of the jail's main door does nothing to make him feel better. The line of cells seems empty though, which is both a blessing and a curse. It means Maya and Gill aren't here, and Lukas vaguely recalls something Isa may or may not have said about them working in the mines during the day, but it also means there's only one place Aiden can be, and it involves the iron door at the end of the hall.

If he even wants to see Aiden, he'll need to be in the same room as him.

Not that Lukas doesn't think he can handle Aiden in a fight, but he's really not supposed to kill Aiden, which looks more appealing right now than talking to him does.

It shouldn't.

The reason he's here at all is because Aiden still can't leave him alone, even if it's just the memories of him driving Lukas nuts.

He doesn't want to think about Aiden like that, like the psycho who tried to kill him and Jesse. He doesn't want to think about the slime ball behind bars like he used to be his best friend, like he and Aiden used to have something.

He doesn't want to think about Aiden, period.

But here they are.

Because whether Lukas wants to think about Aiden or not, it feels like whenever he's not imagining Aiden kicking him off a ledge, he's imagining Aiden kissing or holding him. Aiden's the epitome of mixed messages and it's going to kill Lukas. Aiden was the first person to really be his friend, the first person to kiss him, the first person to have any kind of relationship with him, and the first person to directly try to kill Lukas.

(And Lukas has tried everything to not think of him, to not think of Maya or Gill or Sky City or anything before the Witherstorm, and none of them work. Training just gets him riled up and leaves the training dummies scratched up, his writing devolves into angry gibberish and scribbles for pages, snacking works only while he's actually eating and sometimes not even then, and building is as emotionally charged as an activity can get that makes him see too much red too often. Even just being with Jesse and the others has started to make him resent how happy they all can be with each other while his own best friends are behind bars, are would-be killers and liars and dirty, filthy backstabbers.)

Lukas is practically trudging as he makes his way over to the door.

The walk still isn't long enough.

But opening the door takes what feels like an eternity, his fingers shaking slightly as the door practically groans. The room is darker than he thought it'd be, but it only takes a few moments of squinting before he notices the green eyes squinting back. Said green eyes are quick to widen, and there's light shuffling on what Lukas realizes is a cot before Aiden stands.

Lukas lets the door slam shut behind him as he steps into the room, shoulders squared and both hands curled tightly into fists. Once the door closes, it becomes clear that the room isn't entirely dark; the torches are just about nearly burned out. Aiden waits to move towards him, staring at him before he takes a shaky step towards Lukas.

And then he lunges at Lukas and when Lukas’s hand finds the dagger he brought along just in case, Aiden’s clinging to him and a shaking mess.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—  I w-wasn’t— I’m sorry.” The words are thick and hard to hear, running each other over as Aiden continues to talk, head partially buried in Lukas’s shoulder. For one second, it’s nearly enough to make Lukas want to hug Aiden back, and the next, it’s almost enough to make him want to use the dagger.

Lukas blinks, stiffening as he stares at Aiden.

He's apologizing.

After _everything_ , he's apologizing.

Lukas isn't sure if he wants to laugh or just walk away.

Aiden apologized for stuff before— before he snapped and went nuts.

It's just that now, and maybe Lukas being bitter is only making it all too easy to see it this way, it feels like most of those "big" apologies were more like Aiden was only ever sorry he got caught. He was always sorry about the consequences, about the others getting grumpy or annoyed with him, but he didn't really do much, or anything, to curb any of that behavior.

(And as good a team as they may have seemed to everybody else, it’s become clearer and clearer to Lukas when looking back on things that they weren’t always that nice to each other either. On the worst days, when they weren’t trying to tear down other people, they were tearing each other down. Usually the worst days were follows by make ups and apologies, and eventually they stopped outright arguing with each other while certain insults at certain people got a lot sharper and a lot nastier.)

What makes now any different?

Sure, he sounds and looks like a wreck, and he's groveling, but what does that fix?

"So?" Lukas's voice is tight, even to his own ears, as he pushes Aiden off, hands in front of him as he takes a step back. The dagger’s still hidden in his jacket, where it’ll stay as long as Aiden doesn’t charge him again. "So you're sorry. Do you really think that fixes anything? After what you did, you _better_ be sorry."

"I know." Aiden isn’t looking at Lukas anymore as he studies the floor, voice sounding tired and weak and eerily similar to Lukas’s.

"That doesn’t make up for what you did.”

"What will? I'd do anything."

And as Lukas’s eyes keep adjusting to the dim lighting, the clearer it becomes to Lukas that Aiden looks like absolute hell. His hair looks knotted and matted, longer than Aiden was ever comfortable letting it get, and his clothes have clearly seen better days. They hang off Aiden like he's nothing but bones, and maybe that's all he is. The hug was uncomfortable and something Lukas would rather not think about, but of all the things it was, it was definitely sharp and bony. Between the pale skin and the dark bags under his eyes, it almost looks like he isn't even alive.

"What makes you think I want you to do anything but rot?"

And Aiden looks like Lukas socked him in the gut. He cringes, wincing as he curls in a little on himself, and his voice gets a little quieter, a little rougher around the edges in a way that only makes it weaker and all the more tired.

"Then why are you here?"

"...not so you can say you're sorry and so everything can be magically fixed. It doesn't work like that, Aiden." Lukas pauses before he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and briefly shutting his eyes. "Look, as much as I want to forget you, I can't. We need to fix this. Us. You. And that means you need to change. Really change. Are you up to it?"

"I... I don't know." And Aiden looks entirely confused, like he really has no idea. "I don't know if I can."

"Yes or no." Lukas crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes for a few moments before his shoulders relax slightly. "We're both going to have to work for this, Aiden. I don't even want to think about the headache getting you out's going to be. You need to _promise_ me that you'll be a better person, and actually be one. Then maybe we'll see what happens after that. Can you do that?"

Aiden doesn’t respond at first, glancing at the floor again, and Lukas almost thinks he’s about to turn him down before Aiden looks back up at him. There’s something about the way he looks at Lukas, nervous and a little like he thinks it’s all a dream, that makes it easier to see him as the best friend he had.

He looks like the Aiden Lukas used to know, and the way it makes his heart feel like it’s being squeezed makes it hard for Lukas to tell if that’s a good thing.

Still, Aiden nods, and his next words are the steadiest ones he’s said yet.

"I'll try."


	270. Schedules

Jesse was probably, on the whole, more of a fighter than a builder, as much as she'd enjoyed every building competition at Endercon. Still, she found herself studying the carvings in the quartz just as intently as she had when she'd helped build the room. Probably a lot more now, really, if only because then they'd all had something to do and right now she was left alone waiting and trying to remember all the odd little carvings at the top of the pillars and if they were supposed to mean anything.

The room she was in was more like something of a really nice hut, an odd but smooth mix of obsidian and quartz. It didn't need to be anything more than protected, not that Jesse was complaining about the bench. At first, it didn't have one, but it had been Lukas's idea later to put in a quartz bench that ended up being surprisingly comfortable, all things considered.

Still, there wasn't much to look at besides the swirling nether portal, and after a while it made Jesse feel like she was either going to tear her hair out or fall asleep.

The twisting network of minecarts had gone through a complete renovation after they'd finished fixing up most of the destroyed settlements and cities. If nothing else, they needed to connect it to their own temple so they could easily go from place to place without having to worry about days or weeks spent travelling by foot or horse.

Jesse's foot tapped against the ground as she glanced around the room, fingers drumming against her arm while she hummed something or other. It was a little tune she'd heard the other day in the market, though her own rendition of it was shaky and too high pitched.

Well, there was no denying it. It had happened. And she'd tried so hard to avoid it, too.

She was well and truly paranoid.

Jesse wasn't really the paranoid type. Or at least she never thought of herself that way. Okay, so she wasn't a doormat or gullible either, but normally she knew better than to look over her shoulder for shadows and monsters that didn't exist.

In this case, she'd prepared for just about everything, and it still felt like something was going to find a way to go wrong at the last minute.

Or crazy.

It wasn't like this was anything serious though, a part of some giant plot or crazy adventure. She was just waiting for Axel to get off his butt and show up.

(She didn't doubt he was probably busy trying to blow somebody up or trying to keep his own head on and loving every minute of it.)

His last visit hadn't really gone so well, seeing as how he was pretty out of it from the moment he got to the temple. If that wasn't worrying enough, Ivor had ended up all but dragging Axel to the infirmary, shoving him along while he was still able to stay on his feet. Apparently Axel hadn't been doing so hot as it was back in Boom Town, and when he got to them, he was pretty much confined to his bed. Not that he'd have been going anywhere anyways.

Lag was a nightmare.

Just being around other people was enough to make it worse, and doing anything was a slog. Sometimes, a person thought they were moving fine and that everybody else had gone still. Jesse could only remember ever getting lag once, and even for a mild case it'd been miserable. She was lucky Axel and Olivia were there; being stuck in the middle of a forest at night, unable to move, wasn't the sort of thing that tended to end well.

By the time he'd gotten better, there'd been reports of a group of gankers roaming near the city for them to take care of.

And about two months ago, they'd finally gotten some time to talk at a cheesy costume party the city had decided to throw, and while her vampire getup and his werewolf one led to some fun leech and flea jokes, they didn't get the chance to hang out for more than ten minutes before there was a panic about some creepers that had gotten to close to one of the walls. The resulting hole had let in a slew of other monsters, and when they'd cleaned everything up, nobody was really in a party mood anymore.

Not that Jesse was mad, exactly, that they were expected to deal with all the world's chaos.

It was the reason the order even existed.

But when it wasn't the adventures, it was the fans, or some other disaster. Right after the party fiasco, Petra and Jesse had ended up getting into some trouble for messing around in Ivor's lab, the results of which Petra still refused to talk about.

And then there'd been the time Jesse had decided to try and visit Boom Town.

The resulting concussion had been a pretty good way to keep her from doing that again. Being part of the order hadn't kept her from being immediately bombarded by TNT, and being tossed into an obsidian wall had ended exactly the way anyone would expect.

(And Axel, who went without his own "helmet" because of course he did, never seemed to suffer any serious head injuries. Jesse wasn't bitter or anything, but it would be nice if Ivor stopped trying to get her to wear something on her head and focused on Axel for a bit.)

She just wanted to hang out with her best friends. Olivia was easier to get a hold of, in the way that pulling out one tooth was easier than pulling out all of somebody's teeth. Finding her wasn't the problem so much as finding time to hang out with her was. Without Ellegaard, Olivia seemed to be working as much as she could whenever she could just to try and show other inventors that she wasn't a failure or a bad choice as Ellegaard's replacement.

(And that wasn't even taking Olivia's own doubts into account. It seemed like half the time she thought the only reason she was in charge of Redstonia was because she was friends with Jesse. Like she didn't realize how incredible it was that she could work so fast and do so much with redstone, things her friends could only dream about doing.

Honestly, the next time someone said Olivia was useless or didn't contribute anything to the Order, Jesse was going to smack them.)

That being said, Redstonia was still an easier place to visit than Boom Town was. Jesse could at least walk through the nether portal without worrying about plummeting to the ground, getting another concussion, or being blown to bits.

It was selfish.

So what?

She just wanted some time alone with her friends. That didn't sound all that selfish, right? She could always work later, when she wasn't going to even try to sleep, and while the adventures always kept them on their toes, some relaxation didn't sound too bad. It wasn't like a few hours, or even just one, spent talking about nothing and joking around would somehow make them any less good at what they did.

It was getting to the point where Jesse fully expected Axel trying to play more pranks this visit to make up for the other ones and was more than happy to retaliate.

Jesse started to trace the obsidian block right in front of her with her shoe, only to be on her feet as soon as the portal’s hum got louder.

It only took a second for the whole room to smell like smoke, and Jesse was willing to bet it wasn't all just because of the nether.

The fact that the toe of one of Axel's boots was still smoking and that ash was smeared all over his face made it a lot easier to tell. She wasn't sure if his hair was shorter because he'd actually listened to Olivia or if it was because somebody had tried to burn it off like she said they would.

"Had a challenger?" Jesse almost didn't have time to ask as she was pulled into a bear hug. With Magnus helping out here and there in Redstonia, Axel had kept his spot as King of Boom Town. Axel let go of her a second later, and Jesse didn't manage to escape the following noogie.

"Yeah! The noob kept screwing up with his TNT; he didn't get away in time, so it kept blowing up in his face. It was hilarious! I barely had to lift a finger. Beating him was a blast—" Axel cut himself off as he cleared his throat, shrugging as he failed to hide his grin. "Not that I don't do that all the time."

"Oh, sure, no problem for the king of dorks, right?" It wouldn't matter if it was the first or the fiftieth challenger; Axel would get just as excited.

"Hey, that's King of Boom Town." His grin got even wider as he puffed out his chest for a moment. "Besides, I wouldn't want to take your title away from you like that. You're kinda already the queen of dorks."

"Gee Axel, that's really nice of you." Jesse rolled her eyes as they both started walking towards the door.

"What can I say? Only the best for you, Jesse." She snorted as he ruffled her hair again, grinning and leaning away from him as she tried to push his hand away.

"Thanks."


	271. Human (Jesse/Petra)

The thing about going from world to world, exploring new areas and answering calls for help and expecting them to be traps and going anyway, is that there's really not a normal anymore. Not when it comes to what to expect from other worlds. There are always new items, new potions, new monsters, new people. Trying to think of everything like it's their world isn't only pointless, it's dangerous.

Still, Jesse doesn't think any of them were expecting the world of spider people.

It had started as more of an exploratory sort of adventure, but the instant they found a town of spider people, it had quickly gone from a relaxed trip to the typical swirl of activity. Looking back on it, it's not hard for Jesse to imagine how weird they must've looked, with only two arms and two weird legs in comparison to the people whose entire lower bodies comprised entirely of giant fuzzy spider legs, but at the time, she'd been more focused on keeping Petra from lunging at the nearest person with her sword.

To be fair, they did look like monsters, but she's sure the Order did to them too.

In the end, they were allowed to go free, which was nice, and Petra didn't attack anybody friendly, which was a bonus, but it came at a price. The spider people requested their help in dealing with other spider people, and apparently there'd been a few hundred years’ worth of conflict between the two groups. It still feels confusing to Jesse, but she's not even going to try to figure it all out right now, and bottom line their goal was just to save several captured spider people while trying to stay alive and find an exit portal.

To no one's surprise, they succeeded, but it wasn't easy.

They all have scrapes, cuts, and bruises that ache more than they should, but that's normal. When they got back, nobody needed a health potion.

Yeah, maybe it's scary to think of it that way, judging success based on how damaged they all are in the end, but being heroes has never been about safe jobs. If everything was safe, people wouldn't need heroes. Danger's expected, whether or not Jesse likes it.

Bruised pride isn't something a potion can just fix, though, especially not when they're as stubborn as Petra is. Jesse knows about feeling guilty, about taking responsibility for every little problem or slip up, but, well...

Jesse shakes her head as she walks down the hall, slowing as she approaches Petra's door.

(That's different. Jesse's the leader. She's _supposed_ to keep everything from going wrong. She's the one responsible for making sure nobody gets hurt and that they stay safe, not Petra. It shouldn't have fallen on Petra's shoulders in the first place.)

Petra went back to her room after nearly slicing a dummy in half, but it doesn't sound like she's hacking at an armor stand, the remains of which Jesse's found before, or doing much of anything. It's oddly quiet, really. Jesse can't even hear Petra writing, something that's easy to do when Petra gets mad and tries to etch things into paper with a quill, which means she isn't even trying to take her anger out on paperwork.

For some reason, Petra lying on her back on her bed, her armor on the floor beside her as she stares up at the ceiling, isn't what Jesse expects to find.

"Petra?" The door creaks as Jesse opens it more before stepping into Petra's room, Petra glancing at her but not lifting her head. "What are you doing?"

"...once a week, I like to slip into a deep existential depression where I lose all my sense of oneness and self-worth.” It's dry, but there's nothing sharp or biting to the words.

"Well, that explains a lot." Petra rolls her eyes as Jesse grins, but the weak grin that accompanies the eye roll is encouraging.

"Thanks." Jesse, still grinning, takes a step towards the bed before stopping, glancing back at the door before looking at Petra.

"Can I join you?" Jesse's smile fades as Petra looks back at her, only for her to let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding when Petra shrugs.

"Sure." The door's closed with a quiet click before Jesse moves to the bed, her steps far faster and not as quiet, socks shuffling against the carpet.

Petra shifts to the side to make room as Jesse lies down next to her, but she doesn't pull away when Jesse shifts closer to her and wraps her arms around Petra. Instead, she just wraps an arm around Jesse as Jesse presses a kiss to her cheek, getting a somewhat stronger smile out of Petra.

"You can't try to take responsibility for everything that goes wrong." Jesse's voice is quieter as she gives Petra a few more kisses, the words murmured as her lips trail down Petra's cheek and to her throat.

"That's pretty rich, coming from you." Petra's huff is almost a chuckle as she raises an eyebrow, pressing a kiss of her own to Jesse's forehead. Her voice is quieter too, but it sounds livelier, warmer, than it had when Jesse entered. "You're going to guilt yourself to death one of these days, Jesse."

They worry too much about her. It's supposed to be the other way around. And Jesse knows Petra should know this, they've argued about it plenty before, but this isn't about Jesse.

" _Petra_." Jesse lifts her head, resting her forehead against Petra's as her smile slips in favor of what's supposed to be a sterner look. It doesn't last long before she presses another kiss to Petra's lips. "Nobody actually got hurt. You stopped them before they could touch any of us."

Petra managed to hold her own against several of the spider people at a time, in charge of keeping them away from the group while the rest of them disarmed the traps and freed the prisoners _—_ which in hindsight was so stupid, Petra could’ve gotten killed so easily, she should’ve had more help _—_ , and she'd charged at them with a battle cry fierce enough that Jesse had to wonder how their attackers didn't just give up and run away while they could.

"I was supposed to do that anyway." One of Petra's fingers gently jabs Jesse's chest as Petra pulls her head back. "I had one job. They tried to crush you _—_ they almost did."

One of said traps had nearly been manually activated, several giant rocks positioned above them all and ready to smash anyone under them. It was only because Axel's TNT had hit the person trying to activate it that they weren't currently paste on the cave floor.

The boulders had ended up tumbling down later in the fight, thanks to several stray flaming arrows hitting the ropes keeping the rocks secure, and crushing several of their attackers, but even with their armor, that easily could've been any of the Order. Petra's battle cries had gotten even louder and fiercer after that.

"Not everything's going to work like clockwork, no matter how much we plan. And there wasn't a lot of planning to begin with." It had very much been a rush job, especially since they really had no idea what to expect out of the ruthless bandits besides danger and lots of it. "You're one of the best warriors in any world. That doesn't mean you aren't human."

There's another pause before Petra sighs, sounding just as tired as Jesse feels, and squeezes Jesse. Her smile's small, but it's soft and relaxed, and Jesse's shoulders relax as Petra chuckles.

"...you know, it's kind of hard to hate myself when you're being all loving and mushy like this."

"Oh darn." Jesse's own chuckles fade as Petra doesn't say anything."...does that mean you want me to go?"

"Nope." Petra wraps her other arm around Jesse, and Jesse takes a moment to appreciate just how solid and soft Petra is. For somebody who spent so much time as a loner, she makes for a really good cuddle-partner. "This is nice."

"Oh." Jesse smirks as she closes her eyes for a few moments, letting the side of her head rest on the pillow. "I think somebody just wanted to sulk until they got cuddled."

Not that it doesn't feel really nice, because it does. The bed's soft and warm too, Petra’s breathing is as steady and as quiet as her heartbeat, and after the crazy morning they had, it's pretty tempting to not open her eyes again. She does, but it's harder than it should be, and Jesse's grip relaxes as she nuzzles Petra. Petra laughs again before nuzzling her back.

"Well, it doesn't hurt. I don't think anybody would complain about cuddling."

"You just did."

"Hah. Besides, I know you, Jesse." Petra's grip gets a bit tighter before she kisses Jesse's forehead. "It's not your fault either. Like you said, nobody got hurt, so knock it off."

"Knock what off?" Those aren't the right words to say, Jesse decides as Petra's lips twist into a brief frown. Apparently she's not in the mood for dealing with the innocent act.

"You're not as good at hiding things as you think you are. If it's not my fault, it sure as hell isn't yours either."

"...right."

Jesse knows it's not the answer Petra wants, but judging by her sigh before she pulls Jesse closer, it's one she'll accept.


	272. Clueless

Building competitions at Endercon were fun, for the most part.

At least, crushing the competition was fun.

As far as Aiden was concerned, everybody else might as well not show up. It was a waste of time and everybody knew it. In the end, he and the other Ocelots would win and spend the rest of the night having fun around Endercon.

Not that he minded building.

For one thing, he wouldn't love winning so much if he did.

It was just having to deal with all the sappy and stupid losers that always somehow thought they had a chance that always got on his nerves.

(Alright, so tearing them down bit by bit and making them cry made things more bearable. It was what all of them deserved. They didn't work nearly as hard as the Ocelots did to be as perfect as they were. Being the best at what they did took work, and the reward for that work was being able to remind everybody else just how imperfect they were and how they would never be as good as them.)

On the bright side, none of the Ocelots had to deal with them for long. Most of the day was supposed to be spent building.

But there was one tiny part where they weren't supposed to be building at all, one tiny bit of the day that dragged where they were surrounded by annoyingly loud, annoyingly stupid, and annoyingly terrible builders.

Lunch.

Aiden huffed as one of his fingers tapped against the oak table, nail digging into one of the softer, more worn grooves in the wood. With no tree or cloud cover, the picnic tables were entirely unprotected from the sun, and the smell of sweat and baking greasy food would've been more at home at a sleazy carnival than Endercon.

It'd be easy to leave and get lunch, or not eat anything at all because none of them were lousy enough to be hungry again after eating breakfast just a few hours ago, at some booth while they stayed away from everywhere else, but it was against the rules to leave.

Teams needed to have all the materials ready and on them when building started, which meant no leaving to buy or find more blocks. It was meant to keep people from cheating.

It just happened to keep Aiden annoyed.

Last Endercon, there'd been talk about the lunch break being removed, but apparently somebody had screwed up and they'd have to wait at least until the next Endercon.

On the bright side, Aiden was good at hating people. He didn't have any problems adding whoever had goofed to the list.

And speaking of people he hated...

Hate wasn't a bad thing.

Hating people meant he got to mess with them. And some people were always so easy to mess with.

Especially when they stood out as much as a dorky redstone nerd and a freakishly tall griefer did.

The two of them always managed to cobble together some dumb, basic machine that half the time ended up exploding anyway.

They were both as bad at redstone as they were at building, and any idiot could stoop low enough to be a griefer.

The two of them were also always alone, which meant the bumpkin walking next to them stood out like a sore thumb. Aiden hadn't been sure what to make of the newest team member when the competition had started, and he still didn't have much to go off on, beyond that they looked the filthiest and must've been the one to suggest the colored blocks.

Their build still sucked, but it almost looked like they had maybe tried to be competent for once.

Which was a waste of time, because of course they were going to lose like they did every year, but it had actually been something new. Not that a mini volcano wasn't one of the most cliché and boring things to make, but the stained glass and clay was the sort of thing that seemed beyond both of them to think of.

Which meant that they might actually try to get cocky, despite their build being as good as a blob of dirt.

He was always up for helping put them back in their place.

Still, he'd rather do that and walk away, not do that and then have to be around them until building could start again.

It wouldn’t be hard to get a few insults in as they walked by, but something seemed off. The closer they got, the easier it was for Aiden to see the issue.

There were only four of the Ocelots, which meant the other half of the table was pretty much open.

Which didn’t usually matter because no one else ever sat with them, but it looked like they were making a beeline for the table. Or at least like the noob was dragging the other two along towards them.

"Great." Aiden rolled his eyes as his shoulders slumped, his cheek resting against his hand and his elbow digging into the groove his nail had been messing with a moment ago. "Now we get to sit with those losers."

It would probably be good entertainment for lunch, if any of them had been eating anything.

"It's not like we own the table, Aiden." Lukas shrugged as he rolled a blueprint, the one that had the design for their build, up, twirling a quill in his other hand. He glanced at Aiden with a smile before setting the blueprint down beside him. "There's nothing wrong with sharing it with them."

Not that Aiden really got why the people who won every year didn’t at least get their own table, but lunch had been pretty boring.

Aiden shared a look with Maya and Gill before straightening up, fingers tapping against his leg as he turned his head to look at the approaching group.

They could make it work.

No food didn't mean they couldn't have fun messing with them. And, like usual, he started.

"Who invited the talking rat?"

The words should’ve been enough to get them to walk past and go to another table, or at least make them think twice.

Instead, while Axel and Olivia slowed down, Axel’s fingers already curling into fists, their friend didn’t skip a beat, only grinning.

Aiden knew what self-conscious grins looked like. He knew how people tried to grin when they felt like they were going to cry or like their temper was getting the better of them.

That was not one of those kinds of grins.

It was the kind of grin somebody gave when they somehow found a diamond on their doorstep.

"Ooh, zinger, this is the cool kid, I’m sitting next to them!"

The next thing Aiden knew, the muddy excuse for a builder was sitting beside him, smiling at him like there wasn’t something seriously wrong with this picture already.

"Jesse..."

Jesse didn’t pay any attention to the nearly muttered warning from Olivia, already placing their lunch, which looked like a few potatoes and nothing else, on the table. After a moment, Axel and Olivia sat at the far end of the table, opposite of Jesse.

Aiden stopped glaring soon enough to catch the grin that Lukas didn't even bother hiding, eyes narrowing as he grit his teeth.

Oh, sure, it was funny because Lukas wasn't the one stuck next to a grade A dork.

At least somebody found it funny. Even if _—_

Hold on.

Aiden couldn’t remember seeing their new friend at any Endercon before this, not on the sidelines or anywhere else. He’d seen them two weeks ago at the market, and it had just been the two of them, like always.

And there was something about the way that Jesse seemed to not get that none of them were welcome at the table, the way that there was only one newcomer and the way that everything around, including the basic stuff seen in any town, seemed to be so interesting and new to Jesse.

Aiden’s grin was brief, but he couldn’t stop it from worming its way on his face.

This was a joke, right?

He wanted to say there was no way they were that desperate, but he'd seen their builds.

They were already getting bossed around by a fresh spawn.

A fresh spawn who was probably a better builder than both of them put together, despite having to be pretty foreign to just about all of this.

Not that somebody who'd just spawned always had to be an idiot, though Aiden definitely enjoyed the thought that the two losers who had been building for years could be outdone by somebody who hadn't even been around for a year, and maybe not even a month. Aiden had found Lukas, and as curious and inexperienced as he was, he was a quick learner. Pretty much everything he tried, he had a knack for.

Not that Lukas was ever this talkative.

When he'd ask questions, they'd have a point. It became pretty clear that Jesse, who Aiden had begun to tune out for his own sake, didn't know how to _stop_.

If winning meant having to deal with a giant headache...

Well, okay, there was nothing better than winning. They'd been planning this for weeks. Not just any team knew where to find Petra and what to give her in return for the best materials, and just planning the design alone had taken hours. People who didn't win were people who were better off not trying at all, and losers only ever competed to give the winners somebody to go against.

Winning was everything.

But Jesse. Just. Wouldn't. Stop. _Talking_.

Notch, and Aiden thought Gill could blabber on.

It was like nothing got to Jesse, though.

Every insult, every jab, wasn't dodged. They weren't avoided or ignored. Jesse just straight up laughed at them, like Aiden was telling jokes.

It was _infuriating_.

"What'd you do, decide to put a dead cat on your head?"

Aiden could only raise an eyebrow, laugh dying before it could leave his mouth as Jesse chuckled, shrugging as another potato was finished off before tugging at one of the bangs that seemed to be trying to curl its way right off Jesse's head.

"You're telling me. I know it's mine, but I have no idea what to do with it."

"Maybe try not to go jumping into mud pools like a pig." The words came out more strained than they were supposed to, snarkier and drier, but whatever got the job done was whatever got the job done.

The only problem was that it still didn’t get the job done.

"Tripping into mud puddles, actually. It's not the cleanest walk from the forest to Endercon, but I haven't found a mud pool yet."

Aiden counted to five in his head before huffing, managing to make it sort of sound like a chuckle. Wouldn't do to get sloppy or anything. He lifted his head a bit to look at the booth Jesse's group had been working on, their build looking pretty pathetic next to the already nearly completed water slide. Alright, so it wasn't the Ocelots’ trickiest build or anything, but the sea lanterns at the top and the bottom made up for it being slightly simplistic.

"You know, for your first build, I guess a volcano's still better than actual garbage."

He resisted the urge to hit something as Jesse smiled up at him.

"You really think so?"

(Aiden knew mocking and that wasn't it. He didn't know how and he didn't know why, but the words sounded genuine and he wanted nothing more than to tackle Jesse for it.)

Aiden's face went from an already dark pink to being almost red as Maya's snickering got even louder than Axel and Olivia's, and Lukas seemed to be struggling to try and hide his grin this time.

This was why they'd let Jesse drag them over in the first place. They wanted to make an idiot out of him.

And Aiden did what he always did. He opened his mouth and said the first thing he could think of, which was also what he did best.

"Laugh it up, losers. Don't you two have an invention to blow up or something?"

The two glares he got while Maya and Gill didn’t bother to hide their grins were a relieving return to normal, though Aiden wasn't quite expecting the third glare he got when he finished rolling his eyes and turned his head to look at Jesse.

He felt like face palming.

 _Duh_.

The problem wasn't that he was losing his touch. The problem was that his target had been off the whole time.

Finally.

Jesse didn't manage to say anything, though the sudden furrowed brow and narrowed eyes made it clear that there was going to be some sort of comeback, because that was the moment several whistles were blown, and like that, lunch was over.

Aiden somehow didn't manage the smirk he meant to give before he stood, and by the time he remembered, he was already walking back to the booth, Maya giving him a smirk of her own that made it look like she thought she knew something he didn't.

(Not that she was going to say anything. If she tried to tease Aiden for whatever she thought she knew, he wouldn't waste any time in telling Gill she'd lied again about having breakfast.)

He almost felt disappointed, that after coming off as a mix of ridiculously and annoyingly naive and uncaring, _that_ was what got Jesse to snap.

The breeze picked up, playing with the leaves that had been blown past the fences, twirling the ones that hadn't already been crushed and trampled and halfheartedly lifting the remains of the ones that had, as Aiden shrugged, lips twisting in a smirk as he walked back over to the chest that sat in the corner of the booth.

Maybe it was because it seemed like a waste of potential. There was something about Jesse, something different and interesting when Jesse wasn't busy trying to protect the other two idiots.

But that didn't matter, did it?

In the end, different teams were different teams, and, after all, winners could always use more losers to beat.


	273. Inadequate (Jesse/Lukas)

It's not uncommon for Lukas and Olivia to spend their free time working together.

Olivia's not a bad builder, and Lukas has a somewhat decent grasp on redtsone. He kind of had to, for Endercon, and it's not like he minds the help when she occasionally comments on his blueprints. It saves time and space, not that either are really a problem for the Order, that most of their blueprints are stored in the same place and that they both usually work on said blueprints at the same table, and it's nice to have somebody else there to remind them when they've been working for a few hours and when they should probably get some sleep or some food before they pass out.

Of course, that doesn't mean they both immediately tossed everything together and let it become chaos. That just sort of happened on its own later.

When they started working together, the plan had been to keep their stuff on their respective sides of the table, said table easily being large enough to be able to hold multiple blueprints and supplies without either's things mixing with the other's.

It's not hard to see that it didn't last long, though, large table or not, given that Lukas keeps having to deal with redstone dusting his blueprints and his hair and that the table's entirely covered by an intricate wrap made entirely of blueprints and sheets of paper covered in various designs. At this point, Lukas has given up on hoping to be able to see the actual dark oak and the smooth and intricate carvings beneath it. But it's not just ordinary chaos.

It's _organized_ chaos.

Everything has a place, even if it looks messy and can be hard for anyone else to tell what's supposed to be where.

It's a little crazy and a little messy, the room itself filled with blueprints stored in holes in the walls when they're not leaning up against the door and furniture, and empty inkwells placed nearly everywhere they should really get to filling, but it's just a nice place to be to work out stress and relax. It’s the room that’s also at the base of the basement steps, which is nice because it helps them both keep from losing track of time, something the clock should help with but almost never does, and because it turns out Olivia bakes when she’s stressed and the kitchen isn’t too far from the top of the stairs.

Which is why Lukas, as much as he wishes she wouldn't, gets why Olivia looks so concerned when he all but collapses in the seat across from her.

She doesn't pause, already finishing up some new design, but she looks up, her goggles on the table and the bags under her eyes looking as dark as the ink splotches covering the blueprint by her hand. The silence continues as Lukas picks up a quill, looking down at his own blueprint and trying to ignore the way it feels like her eyes are burning a hole through his head.

He's being stupid. He knows he is.

He's even wearing his goggles over his eyes, something he rarely does on adventures and almost never does inside. He's pouting when he should be working or doing just about anything else.

"So..." Olivia lets the pause drag again, and he feels bad for not answering but he really should be working and trying not to think about _—_ "How did it go?"

"What?" Lukas, against his better judgement, which has been steering him wrong a lot lately anyway and he should have fixed, looks up, raising an eyebrow.

Olivia doesn't let the pause drag at all this time, voice as flat as the look she's giving him.

"Weren't you going to ask Jesse out?"

"...she might've been a little busy already talking to somebody."

"Oh, come on. You have fans too. And I _know_ you've had ones that give you gifts too. It doesn't mean anything." There's a pause where Lukas chooses not to respond, and he doesn't have to look up to imagine the pitying look she must be giving him. "...not a fan?"

"Didn't look like it." He sighs as he sets the quill back down. "You know that merchant that's pretty much been able to get Jesse whatever she wants or needs at ridiculously low prices?"

"...oh."

"Yeah." Despite the table being all but plastered with sheets and blueprints, Lukas is reminded that it’s not as soft as it looks as he slumps forward, letting his forehead rest dangerously close to another inkwell. He doesn't want to sound as bitter as he does when he continues, but the small laugh just sounds sharp and biting to his ears. "And judging by the flowers and the chocolates, I don't think he was trying to sell her something."

He hadn't stuck around, stopping only to leave the flowers he’d been planning on giving Jesse in his room and taking the time to shove his goggles on. Of all the things he'd wanted to do, being a creep wasn't one of them. It sounded like Jesse had been plenty surprised by the gifts _—_

because of course she was, she probably appreciated somebody being direct for once and not beating around the bush for weeks and weeks like a moron, and Lukas knows she deserves to be happy, no matter who she's with.

Doesn't change the fact that he's a coward and he hates it, though.

"Lukas..."

"What kind of chance do I have?" Lukas groans as he lifts his head only to bury it in his hands, fingers curling into his hair as he props his elbows up on the table. "Everybody loves her. And why wouldn't they? She's selfless, almost always has a level head no matter how crazy things get, which is nuts because they _always_ get crazy, a-and she's so strong, and she always comes up with nutty plans that somehow work out in the end and _—_ Jesse's amazing."

Lukas rests his chin on one of his hands as he finishes, face feeling warm and the rest of him feeling stupid.

A few moments pass before Olivia sighs, the blueprint already curling back up as she sets it aside and rubs at her eyes.

"I can't believe I have to spell this out." The look she gives Lukas is somewhere between sour and tired, the thin smile she gives not meeting her eyes. "For somebody who's so smart, you can be really dense."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lukas, people who've never met you know you have a crush on Jesse."

"Gee, thanks." Lukas leans back in his chair as he rolls his eyes. "And that makes it any better how?"

"Because Jesse's just as dense as you are." Lukas opens his mouth to argue, but doesn't manage to say anything before Olivia continues. "She likes your butt and fancy hair."

Well... okay. The hair he can understand. He doesn't spend hours in front of a mirror working on it day after day for no reason.

"My butt?"

"She also thinks everything you do is endearing or adorable." Olivia doesn't pause as she crosses her arms. "I know because I get to hear about it _all the time_. She talks about how cute you are more than she talks at all about any merchant."

"I thought bad jokes were Axel's thing?"

That gets a groan out of Olivia.

"I'm not kidding. Both of you being painfully oblivious and doubting yourselves gets old fast." She uncrosses her arms, tapping her quill against the table as she shakes her head. "It's kind of amazing you didn't find out when you guys were going through portals together. Besides, I can keep teasing you two after you get together."

"We were more concerned about staying alive. And what makes you think we'll get together?" Lukas raises an eyebrow as he looks at Olivia, who's looking more and more shaky and flushed the more he looks at her. "You're really tired, aren't you?"

Olivia doesn't answer for a moment, staring at the table before staring at Lukas.

"I had three meetings today with people who think I'm either some sort of dictator or just incompetent, all of my designs and ideas are stupid and flawed, my inventions have been malfunctioning on and off for the past week, and I haven't slept in three days." Olivia exhales sharply through her nose before she grins, looking more like she's baring her teeth than smiling as her fingers curl around the notepad sitting next to her blueprint. "Other than that, I'm doing _great_."

"...right."

The clock chooses then to remind Lukas that its ticking gets even louder during awkward silences as he looks back down at his hands.

Olivia's next sigh is shakier and longer, but far softer, which is a good sign that she probably doesn't want to beat Lukas over the head with a wrench.

Probably.

"I _—_ let's just say things haven't been going that well in Redstonia and leave it at that, okay?"

Olivia got back today after having spent the past two weeks in Redstonia, and Lukas knows her job is stressful, it has to be, with Ellegaard being gone and most people resenting Olivia for it for some reason. They couldn't have a better inventor as a leader, but if they don't want to see that, then they don't want to see that.

It still sucks that they torment Olivia for it, though.

"Alright." He cracks a grin and hopes it looks more relaxed than it feels. "Three days?"

Olivia grumbles something to herself as she rubs at her eyes again before shrugging with an exhausted smile of her own.

"Maybe four. I kind of lost track."

Lukas shakes his head, smile getting wider as he gets to his feet.

"Look, I'll talk to Jesse. You need to get to bed. And not sit there and work on something else, or go to your workshop instead _—_ actually sleep."

"I..." Olivia's frown doesn't last long before she sighs, giving a small smile as she sets the quill back in the inkwell and gets to her feet. She doesn’t immediately fall over like Lukas half-expects her to, which is good, and he thinks both of them are lucky that her bedroom’s in the basement. "Fine. Let me know how it goes."

"Will do."

Lukas brushes his hair back with a hand as he walks over to the stairs, stopping with a hand on the railing as Olivia speaks up.

"Lukas?" Olivia’s all but leaning on the door as she pauses and looks over her shoulder at Lukas, smile tired but warm. "Try to relax. You'll do great."

Lukas's chuckles last until she slips into her room, laughter dying as he glances back at the top of the stairs.

He frowns for a moment before he shakes his head, muttering more to himself than speaking to anybody else.

"Yeah, well, I guess we'll find out."


	274. Fret (Olivia/Jesse)

Olivia's not sure what it says about her that it's an accomplishment to actually be in bed by three in the morning instead of working.

Maybe it says even more that she feels guilty about it, about sleeping and needing to sleep at all in the first place. Not that she's fallen asleep yet, but she's currently drifting in some sort of drowsy state between being awake and being asleep that allows her guilt to keep her up just a little bit longer while the hum of her machines lulls her deeper into sleep.

(She may or may not be seriously considering asking Ivor for a potion that'll allow her to sleep less. She knows how much he wouldn't like the idea, but maybe it'd sound preferable to a potion that would let her always stay awake.)

Right now though, Olivia knows she needs to sleep. It's a miracle she didn't just collapse into bed with her smeared and filthy clothes on and her hair ties still in.

She's pulled right from her not-really sleep, though, as the mattress dips slightly and two arms suddenly wrap tightly around her.

Olivia doesn't do anything more than tense, and only just stops herself from screaming and kicking the person behind her because nobody would try to attack her by just holding her like she's going to disappear and nuzzling her. Besides that, Jesse's arms wrap around her far too easily, far too comfortably and familiarly, even as her breath shakes and even as she buries her face in Olivia's hair, for it to be anyone but her.

It doesn't make her near heart attack any better, but this isn't the sort of thing for Jesse to do.

The nuzzling and night-time visit itself isn't so odd, but Jesse almost never holds her this tight, almost never sounds like she's on the verge of a breakdown and having trouble breathing.

"Jesse?" Jesse's breathing gets much quieter after Olivia speaks, and for a second Olivia almost thinks that Jesse was hoping she'd somehow stay asleep despite Jesse clinging to her like her life depends on it. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare about you a-and I just wanted to make sure you're okay." Jesse's voice isn't as shaky as her breathing was a moment ago, but it still wobbles when she reaches the 'and' and Olivia feels like someone's slapped her.

Olivia doesn't know if Jesse's grip is so tight because she's forgotten how strong she is, something that's happened plenty after her training with Gabriel, or if it's because whatever she saw scared her that much. Whichever it is, it's cute, it's just also cutting off Olivia's ability to breathe.

"...it's okay." Jesse holding her like she is makes it a little hard to turn, but Olivia manages, shifting to face Jesse and wrap her arms around her. She can't see Jesse, even with the torchlight trickling in from under the door, but she doesn't need to to hold her even closer and kiss her cheek. "Nothing happened. I'm fine. Whatever you saw was just a bad dream."

"Didn't feel that way." Olivia's fingers start playing with Jesse's hair as she kisses Jesse again, this time on the forehead.

"You're okay. We're both okay."

As unbelievable as that is.

Bad dreams aren't unusual for either of them, and for good reason.

Olivia doesn't want to think about the weeks spent searching and desperately trying to dig up information on where Jesse and Petra had gone, weeks spent travelling with Axel from place to place and hoping the amulet was just broken, that their best friends were alive and well instead of rotting somewhere.

And Jesse...

Jesse had it so much worse than Olivia ever had. Fighting constantly to stay alive and keep the others safe sounds like nothing less than almost impossible, with how dangerous some of the worlds are, and even then, Petra, Lukas, and Ivor had died.

(Olivia doesn't want to think it's left any sort of rift between them, but it definitely feels different, odd and weird, to know that they _died_. She and Axel can't relate, not really, but at least they can try to make dealing with the scars and memories easier.)

Jesse died.

Olivia got to watch.

They all got to see it.

It's something she'll do her hardest to never see again. Jesse's been through so much, nearly died and then actually did, and in the end her nightmares still make her worried about _Olivia_ instead of herself.

Of all the things that Olivia finds both endearing and worrying, it's Jesse's hero complex. Olivia wants to say it'll get Jesse killed someday, but it already has.

(And Jesse was willing to throw her life away, her free will, permanently, all for the chance that Hadrian would actually keep his word and set them free. That alone has given Olivia more than a few nightmares of her own.)

For a while the two of them just lay there, silent save for the occasional shaky breath that slowly becomes less and less common and the low hum of a few machines still running in the back of the room. The blankets shift and Olivia knows Jesse wants to say something by the way Jesse pauses before nuzzling Olivia's neck, the way she can feel Jesse's brief grin against her skin.

"What?"

"You've got redstone in your hair." Her voice is quiet, soft and weak, but it sounds a little more like Jesse normally does. Enough to get an eye roll out of Olivia, at least.

"I might as well bathe in it."

Olivia's lips twitch up at Jesse's giggle. Redstone's nearly impossible to get out of her clothes, never mind her hair, and after the long day she had, it wouldn't surprise Olivia if there was more redstone than hair. That's another part of what makes Jesse special. Anybody else would probably get sick of the usual glow and occasional static shock _—_

Olivia's train of thought practically jumps off the rails as Jesse kisses her on the lips, smiling into the kiss. It’s a small smile, but it’s there.

Olivia doesn't think she'll ever get used to that, but that's okay.

When it comes to things she's used to and more than happy to be used to, being there for Jesse is at the top of the list. She can't erase what happened to Jesse, what all of the horrible people and creatures they met did or almost did, but she can hold and kiss Jesse like this as long as she needs to.


	275. Frozen

Becoming part of the Order had been a big change.

Petra had been sick for most of the Witherstorm disaster, more than useless in a dozen ways, and they still wanted her to be part of their team. They still saw her as some kind of friend, despite how much she slowed them down and complicated things.

She was grateful.

That didn't stop her from getting the itch to do things solo, an itch that was never completely satisfied with missions where she was alone. Petra still did trades here and there, but her friends knew about those. She wondered how many of the knew when one of her solo missions was really just a glorified excuse for her sneaking off to mess with more illegal deals, deals that were gratifying and relieving and took care of her itch in a way adventures just couldn't sometimes.

It wasn't the first time she'd given into it, and she already knew it wouldn't be the last.

She was supposed to be a hero now.

And for the most part, she was. She was a lot more careful with her shadier deals, at least, said deals also being a lot rarer.

Part of that came solely from so many people knowing her as a member of the Order. It was easier to make deals with people who only knew her as a hero by name, and assumed the scruffy miner they met with simply shared the same name as the warrior.

Wearing regular gear instead of her enchanted armor both came back to bite her and paid off well.

On one hand, she was a dozen emeralds richer than she'd been before making the trade. On the other, her enchanted armor had a number of enchantments, one of which was supposed to make certain types of weather bearable. Weather like a glorified snowstorm of a blizzard.

Her many layers could only do so much, and keeping her hood up didn’t keep the wind from making it harder to hear or her ears from getting cold enough that she could hardly feel them.

It hadn't started out awful, the snow only falling lightly and slowly when she arrived through the portal and at the side of the mountain, but by the time Petra had found her client and finished her business hours later, the weather hadn't slowed.

Snow covered the mountain side, still falling even though it already blanketed the trees and coated the ground so thickly that most of Petra's steps had her sinking up to her knees. It was soft snow, fresh, unlike the occasional patches of harder, older snow Petra had experienced on her first trip across. If it weren’t for the puffy and endless dark clouds above or the constant sheet of falling snow, Petra had no doubt it was the kind of snow that would all but sparkle in the moonlight.

She wasn't as sure as she should've been about what was under this snow, and kept finding herself expecting to step on a frozen over stream instead of ground or to sink even further into a hidden den.

The howls of what sounded like a wolf occasionally broke through the whistling of the wind and the slow but steady falling snow. The sound was deep and seemed to echo off the mountain itself, winding through the trees and mounds of snow that may have been trees as it fluctuated between being a yowl and a piercing whine, but Petra had yet to hear it go answered.

All in all, it was almost achingly familiar. Here she was again, with more gear than she once had but far less resources than she was used to.

She couldn't have been less than three fourths of the way to the portal when she did exactly as she feared and stepped through the snow and into a den. A den that was at an angle.

Petra couldn't hold back her yelp, short as it was, and while she went quiet after that, internally she couldn't have been louder.

There was snow in her coat, under her jacket and melting into her shirt. Her leg was being stubborn and her boot was about as determined to give Petra trouble as Petra was to get it out.

The shivering got worse.

This was her fault. That didn't mean she had to like it or anything, but it was her fault.

Her boot finally gave in and returned to the surface after Petra tugged with a growl, scowling as she tried to stand. Her ankle had other ideas, but it didn’t matter so long as she moved the leg it was attached to.

She'd gotten soft.

She was supposed to be more than used to this, had survived things and conditions that were far worse than a little bit of cold. And it wasn't like she could claim she wasn't used to this world _—_ this was hers. She might've gotten here by nether portal, but it was still the world she had been surviving in for years on her own, and this mountain wasn't as unfamiliar as it could've been.

That did it.

Petra was going to have to get used to being in the cold again.

It wouldn't do if she was this weak during any actual adventures.

She'd be fine once she got back to the nether portal. Then she'd probably be unhappy with the heat and want the cold back.

She kept telling herself that, even as her trudging got slower and her shivering disappeared. She kept repeating it even as the distant howling became more and more like a wail, as she stopped feeling cold and started feeling hot. The layers that had been welcome before were suddenly uncomfortable and constricting, dangerous and unwanted.

Petra couldn't understand, as much as it felt like her mind was screaming at her, why taking her gloves off was a bad idea or why her fingers looked blue. Blue meant cold, didn’t it?

So why did she feel like she was burning up?

Petra put her hands to her face, not realizing that her fingers were tangled in her hair until she tried to pull them back. Her fingers shook and barely moved, twitching at best, and by the time Petra sat down, they only felt hotter.

Lying down in the snow was supposed to be a bad idea, for some reason, but the cold snow felt great against her too hot skin. She was having trouble seeing straight. She was tired.

There was nothing wrong with lying closing her eyes, right?

* * *

 

"Petra." The ground was shaking. " _Petra_."

No, that wasn't right. The ground wasn't soft and dry, and she was pretty sure it couldn't hold her up.

"Come on, wake up!"

Petra squinted up with eyes that felt like they would shut at any moment.

The green hoodie, warm and baggy enough that it was nearly wrapped around her despite her apparently wearing it, was the first thing she saw. The mop of black hair that was being blown everywhere at once and the furrowed brow were next.

Petra didn't know where her shirt had gone, or where her jacket and coat were. It didn't matter, she didn't feel soaked anymore. But Axel was shivering, the wind tugging at his hair and snow beating against his back as he kept walking.

While Petra was slightly preoccupied with the idea that Axel had an unfair advantage, being as tall as he was and being able to get through the snow easier, what was more important and just as apparent was that Axel didn't have his hoodie on. Petra was wearing it. Didn't he know how dangerous that was in this weather? He was gonna get himself killed.

"We'll be out of here soon, you're gonna be fine, just _wake up_!"

Who was he talking to? Was he talking to himself?

“Petra…” She was pulled closer, held tighter, and closing her eyes again was easy. If she wasn’t being held so close, the wind could’ve easily drowned out the next words. “You can’t die. Please don’t die.”

Was he talking to her? That was silly. Why would she die? She didn't feel near as cold as she did before. If anything, she felt...

Warm.

It was so warm.

Really, it was burning again, his skin was too hot, the hoodie too warm, it hurt, but she was so tired. Petra couldn’t do much more than twitch before she sank into sleep.

It felt like there was something off, something wrong, but Axel would be able to take care of it. Petra trusted him.

She was safe and that was enough.


	276. Change

Just because Gabriel and Magnus had been busy helping rebuild Redtsonia and continued to run repairs as needed doesn’t mean that neither of them had heard about Jesse, Petra, and Ivor disappearing.

They'd been the first to learn what had happened, actually, or what little anyone knew about what must have happened. Olivia had been little more than a nervous wreck at the time, and Gabriel couldn't blame her, especially as the days stretched on into weeks and they still found nothing. She spent her time trying to take care of the city surrounding the new Order's temple when she wasn't out scouring for her missing friends, and Magnus and Gabriel had been quick to let her know they'd take care of Redstonia for her so she could spend more time looking for the others.

It was also so she could actually maybe get a chance to rest, time she'd undoubtedly have otherwise spent bouncing between the two cities in a desperate attempt to keep everything running and take care of everything, but she didn't need to know that.

Gabriel knew her well enough then to know she would've kept working anyhow if they'd told her their real reasoning.

Magnus hadn't needed him at the time for much, though, given that most repairs were more technical and could be taken care of easily enough by the inventors who lived in Redstonia. Gabriel had searched high and low, going from town to village to forest looking for clues as to where they could've gone or been taken to.

It was a time where his low popularity was used heavily against him. No one wanted to help the washed up liar of a warrior, not even to supposedly help their new heroes. Magnus had done searches of his own, but all Gabriel had learned, and has learned since, about them was that he ended up empty handed every time. There are things a griefer will do that a warrior will never consider, and by that point they were both pretty desperate anyway.

(And then Axel and Olivia had disappeared with no warning and the searching had become even more panicked and thorough, and still to no avail.)

For them to reappear just as suddenly, having found the others, is perhaps somewhat confusing but far more relieving and a far nicer surprise. He had assumed they’d simply gotten a lead and been more than excited to follow it, not thinking to let Gabriel or Magnus know beforehand. Though younger than either of them, Axel and Olivia are still adults, and while their decisions may be impulsive, they’re theirs to make.

Gabriel’s not sure what to think now that he knows they were abducted, but he can worry himself witless later. Right now, they’re okay.

They both received invitations to visit the temple this morning, less than a week after the Order returned. Even now, Gabriel's not sure how or if there was ever any question about them coming over. He wouldn’t think any of them are particular about formalities, but recovering from harrowing experiences is hardly easy and niceties never hurt.

He and Magnus have both had plenty of time to think about what could've happened. Knowing that they're back safely is one thing, but there's something to be said for seeing it.

And they have.

Everyone seems fine, if understandably tired, the temple itself already so much more welcoming and warmer. Just getting to hug them all to make sure they’re okay is an odd relief, and finding the living room looking lived in again, blankets strewn on the couch and several fuzzy seats set up near the fireplace, is one that’s just as large.

And then comes the explanation, which is likewise appreciated, if odd and brief.

A portal network that connects entire worlds was admittedly not Gabriel's first guess, but he's more than happy that they're all just back in one piece. Ivor's talked almost exclusively about the few adventures and even just regular events since they've returned, barely mentioning the network itself once.

Now is not the time or the place to pry, and Gabriel is not in a position to do so.

But he's content to listen, both to Ivor and to the crackling of the fire as it slowly consumes the dry and gnarled logs sitting in the ash coated fireplace.

The others are all either resting or attending to their own activities, but it doesn’t escape Gabriel how quick Ivor was to insist they start talking. Most of their chat has been filled with questions about Redstonia and themselves, and, when the topic strays a bit too far into uncomfortable or painfully relatable territory, anecdotes about the constant endearing insanity that is the new order.

(And a few shared looks between Magnus and Gabriel when Ivor occasionally leaves to deal with some issue or other concerning someone else.)

This is not the tired man who just wanted the world to know the truth.

Ivor seems tired, beyond exhausted, gaze a little emptier than it should be and in haunting ways, but he also seems happy. His smile’s carry more than just regret, his laughter filled at least in part with actual warmth instead of being bitterly hollow and empty. It’s to Gabriel’s understanding that Ivor even has his own room and lab inside the temple itself now.

This is not the man that chose to live in the city in a much protested house that’s apparently much larger on the inside than it looks.

This is more like the Ivor he remembers.

Gabriel would like to think that he isn't the sort of man to live in the past, but he'd be lying. All he did before their lies were revealed was feed off the fame and glory that came from their killing the dragon.

He can't act as if he doesn't understand why he's hated.

He's rather disgusted by himself.

But beyond sustaining himself off of his supposed deeds, he knows he’s living in the past in the sense that a large part of him wants what they had back. He wants nothing more than to go back to a time when they were all best friends ready to take on the world and more, but those times are gone.

They were over long before Ellegaard died.

He's angry, thinking about it. There's no denying the way it makes him stiffen, the way his anger, usually so slow to build, rockets and makes him want to hit something.

But he's not angry at Ivor.

It isn't hard to see how years of being alone could make a man bitter.

They lied to the world. They would still be lying if it wasn't for Ivor. By the time they all went their separate ways, Ivor had already been abandoned and betrayed, pushed aside for possible fame.

How could Gabriel hold that against anyone?

He couldn't, so he can't.

After everything, the real miracle isn't that Ivor's alive, as dangerous as their adventures sound. It's that he's willing to see either of them and doesn't want more revenge for what they did.

(The person who should be punished most for Ellegaard's death is the useless warrior who had already been defeated and wasn't around to save or even comfort one of his best friends before she died. Of all the people Gabriel will have trouble forgiving, the hardest is himself. It is no surprise to him why the rest of the world seems to feel the same, for what little he actually did and how poorly he's done anything since.)

Gabriel doesn’t realize that his smile’s twisted into a frown until Ivor stops mid-sentence, brow furrowing.

“Gabriel?” While Ivor’s the one speaking, Magnus’s expression is almost the same as his and Gabriel has no problem mentally cursing himself. “What is it?”

"Nothing." Gabriel shakes his head, fingers briefly tapping against the soft arm of the chair as he shrugs. "I thought I had something to say, but whatever it is slips my mind."

"Your memory isn't still bothering you, is it?"

His memory? Bothering him?

There are nights when he can't sleep and has to tentatively ask Magnus his name to make sure he knows it. There are entire days filled with the constant nagging feeling that he's forgotten something again, something important, and there have been times where he only vaguely knows his surroundings and has been saved only by his own trust in Magnus, trust that's there whether or not Gabriel really remembers him.

Having such steadfast trust in a griefer is a frightening thing in itself, really.

"No. Not particularly." Ivor raises an eyebrow, but there's no argument from him as Gabriel leans back in his chair and smiles. "You were saying?"

Ivor’s expression doesn’t change. Gabriel’s shoulders begin to slump before Magnus shoots him another look and clears his throat, gaze shifting from Gabriel to Ivor.

"Yeah, come on, man. You can’t just start telling us about a plant monster and leave it there. Don't leave us hanging."

Ivor glances between the two of them before settling back into his own chair, posture relaxing once again.

"...well, if that wasn't enough, they then decided that stealing several more of my potions to use against the creature would be better than telling me about it and letting me handle it. Of course..."

Gabriel's smile doesn't falter as Ivor continues, still listening as he glances again at the thriving fire. This visit...

It's different. Ivor's different. But then again, so is Gabriel. So are all of them.

It will never be like it was, years and years and so many betrayals ago, and he would never expect it to be. Too much has happened in too long a time. But this?

This is a fair alternative.

And it's one he'll happily accept.


	277. Comfortable (Jesse/Lukas)

As crazy and as hectic as the Order's life could get sometimes, and between experimental potions and dangerous new worlds it could get pretty crazy, they didn't go without their lazy days.

Sometimes, usually after prolonged and lasting periods of insane, dangerous, and insanely dangerous adventures, it was tempting to tell the world to go away and to have problems that needed dealing with after the Order actually got some rest, and other times, nature did it for them.

Okay, granted, they'd gone out in far worse weather before and they would again, but as they'd finally tidied up all reports of trouble and possible trouble and all cries for help, the steady rumbling of the storm and constant patter of rain, cold and thick drops hitting the windows and cutting through the blanket of fog only to make it harder to see, also made it all the more desirable to be inside instead of out looking for more trouble.

And, as much as everyone in the Order needed a lazy day, some of them also needed to be told when to quit.

The weather did a fine job, especially when paired with Ivor, who, despite his protests that he was fine and they were the ones who needed to rest, was very clearly not fine and looked about ready to collapse whenever he took a moment to sit down. With the poor amounts of sleep they'd been getting and the hearty amounts of danger and chaos, it wasn't hard to see how any of them stepping outside now was as good as condemning themselves to some sort of sickness.

Jesse would only admit to herself that she was one such person who needed to be told to take a break even when it was pretty clear to her that she needed one, but the others were all already well aware of that.

That was why, by noon, Jesse wasn't sure if anybody was actually out of their beds, or if anybody else had even gotten up at all.

Maybe they weren't sleeping, maybe they were just reading or resting as they listened to the rain and watched for the occasional flashes of lightning, but she couldn't imagine any of them were getting up for more than a warm drink or something to eat. With how badly the latest monsters and disasters had been kicking them around, and even though every single horrible monster they'd gone against had lost none of them had gone down without a fight, she doubted anybody, even Petra, was doing anything like training.

Maybe Jesse would be, at least trying to work on some paper work or trying to tie up a few loose ends, but she guessed that was why she was in Lukas's bed.

She hadn't been prepared for cuddling being used as a way to keep her from working, and Jesse became all too aware of how exhausted she was as soon as Lukas suggested it. Looking at him now, eyes half closed while his grip stayed as firm and gentle as hers was, she had a feeling that was exactly how he intended to use it against her too.

He was just as tired as she was, though, and if she wanted to, she could wait for him to fall asleep and just sneak away.

But the bed was comfier than Jesse expected it to be, the mattress soft and the blankets fluffy and good for keeping any and all body heat in, and lifting her head felt like far more trouble than it was worth, especially with how warm Lukas and the blankets were. His room had no windows, but Jesse had a feeling that the sky hadn't changed its shade of grey since the last time she looked and doubted that it would help her as much as the clock did even if it had, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't just as comfortable or neat as anyone else's room.

The dimmed lamps kept the room from looking as dingy as most other people would've let it look, and everything in Lukas's room, from the furniture to the supplies visible on his desk, was neatly arranged, all without making it feel too artificial or creepily sterile. The fuzzy carpet might've help, though.

It was criminal, really, how cozy it was, and Jesse was enjoying every second of it.

The storm didn't sound like it would be letting up anytime soon, and Jesse knew it would only make it harder for her to concentrate if she did try to get anymore work done, something that her uncooperative and tired body made clear was highly unlikely in the first place, thunder or no thunder.

The near constant booming and also made it clear that no thunder wasn't an option.

Lukas, though, who looked adorable, was definitely an option.

Her finger traced the stray hairs curling by his ear, getting a soft hum out of Lukas as he tilted his head, one eye opening fully while the other shut, his voice little more than a mumble.

"What?"

Jesse chuckled as she slowly moved her hand, gently brushing his bangs out of his eyes before shifting closer as she wrapped her other arm around him.

It wasn't often that she got to see him without his jacket, and it was even rarer that she saw him wearing the well-worn pajamas he'd decided to go with this time. Not that she could blame him, with how easy it was most of the time to just collapse in bed wearing the clothes they had adventured in, but it certainly helped him look especially adorable.

"You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…"

Somehow, Jesse didn't think his cheeks flushing was because of the temperature.

"You're one to talk." Lukas rubbed at ones of his eyes as he muttered, pulling her closer with a smile. "Besides, I thought we were supposed to be trying to sleep, not trying to see how cute we could be."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing."

It got a huff out of him, but Lukas didn't say anything else, only smiling as his eyes closed.

Maybe it was his breathing, quiet and steady, maybe it was how comfortable cuddling with him was, cozy and far better than sleeping anywhere alone, maybe it was because the room was deeper inside the temple than hers, but Jesse was able to shut her eyes and ignore the next rumble.

It was the first time in about a week that her shoulders slumped and her body relaxed.


	278. Jerk

As off putting as the night could be, dark and filled with monsters desperate for someone to attack, there was nothing like a celebration to make it more inviting.

The inky night sky was filled with stars, a sliver of the moon peeking past the grey, fluffy cloud that covered the rest of it, flashing colors overlapping and trying to outdo each other as more and more fireworks were set off.

The near nonstop whistling, booming, and fizzing was hard to miss, as was the way the ground reflected back whatever color was currently taking up the sky, even if someone didn't look up and even under the noise brought on by people. Every stall was filled with smells and noises that threatened to be overwhelming in the best of ways, the steady chatter underlying the likewise constant chimes and clanks from stalls bursting with flashing and noisy items and the crackling and popping of roasting food that was never more than two stalls away.

It wasn't Endercon, but a regular festival was still better than no festival.

Aiden had a feeling he'd be appreciating it more if he hadn't been the one saddled to get the snacks, something the Ocelots rarely indulged in. They treated it like they did everything else, though, and maybe it was because they enjoyed snacks so rarely that everyone had decided to go overboard.

Or maybe it was because they liked the way it made Aiden grumble when he realized how much food he'd have to wait in line for and carry back. One fourth of it was his, sure, but just because he went overboard didn't mean everyone else had to.

(Though to be fair, if they hadn't decided to get so much food, he definitely wouldn't have either.)

Finding a stall that would have the food they wanted wasn’t hard, but getting to it was thanks to all the people who had also apparently decided they were hungry.

Still, Aiden ended up stopping in the flow of traffic, pushed to the edge and just close enough to see somebody, a figure that stood out as the festival was continually lit up by firework light, in the alley a few steps ahead.

It wasn't often that he saw people in the alleys, dark and dingy with barely enough light to keep monsters from spawning, and he supposed it wasn't often he went looking for them.

Not that he had gone looking, but with all the bright colors and lights, an abandoned alley stuck out, especially when somebody was just barely visible out of the corner of his eye.

People who wanted to be safe, who wanted to be comforted, would find someplace nice and bright, preferably with whatever friends they had. No one went into a dark area expecting to be safe.

People who were in dark alleys wanted to be left alone.

And Aiden was the sort of nosy person who didn't usually care about what other people wanted, so it wasn't hard for him to take a little detour, after a bit of shoving and pushing, and peer into the alley instead of walking over to the stall. This alley was between a bookstore and a butcher’s shop, both closed for the festival and both dimly lit too, meaning that the light coming through their windows didn’t help him see the shadowy figure as more than a dark blob.

A few moments of his eyes adjusting did help, though, his boots crunching on the mix of gravel and dirt as he stepped off of the stone street.

Aiden wasn't sure who he'd been expecting to see, but Jesse wasn't it.

Her shoulders were hunched, her knees drawn to her chest as she rested against the grimy brick wall, hand rubbing and wiping at her eyes. Her breathing was off, shaky and fast, and even the dimmer light of the alley didn't hide how splotchy the skin around her eyes was, or that her eyes looked near bloodshot. He almost thought she was hurt, but the red in her hair was the same dyed bit as always.

This wasn't too far from where the two of them had last ran into each other, little over an hour ago, but Aiden had figured she'd been on the other side of the festival since then. It hadn't exactly gone well, especially not after Lukas had tried making small talk.

She had smiled at Lukas, a goofy smile he knew she only ever gave to her friends, and Aiden... he... might've snapped, just a little, once Lukas walked away, and insulted her until Jesse had finally gotten the hint and ran away. He almost never got her to outright bolt, though in hindsight her smile had gone from being warm to thin and tight as soon as Lukas had left, so Aiden probably hadn't had that much to do with it if her mood had already been poor.

(Not that he doubted picking on every bit of her appearance and her lack of skills and how likely it was that her friends couldn't even stand her had something to do with it.)

Still, picking on her was so easy. Finally seeing her snap had felt so good, so rewarding.

So why didn't it feel that way now?

Probably because when she ran away, he figured that was that and he wouldn't have to deal with however else she reacted.

He could've turned around and left. He was planning on it, actually, and beginning to do just that when those same red, puffy eyes went from staring at the wall to focusing on him.

Notch, if it had been awkward before, Aiden was sure this was as uncomfortable as anything could get.

Not that uncomfortable situations had ever stopped him before. Having shame, any form of decency, or common courtesy were easy liabilities for someone who thrived best off of tearing other people down. Throwing rocks didn't mean anything if he didn’t care when people tried to get him back. Being just as vulnerable, though, as his targets was practically suicide. If he was just as easy to get back at, people would be more than happy to get revenge, and he'd deserve it for being a hypocritical idiot.

A coldhearted jerk didn't have anything to worry about.

So, Aiden decided as he kept his eyes on Jesse, moving to lean against the wall, there was nothing keeping him from going back to the other Ocelots and forgetting a sore loser. Which meant that, if he stayed, it was his choice. He was doing this because he wanted to, not because he felt guilty or like he had to save face.

After all, that would be ridiculous.

Still, whether or not he had to be here, which he didn't, that didn't change that Jesse looked ready to break into tears again at any moment, even while she stared at him.

No matter how her eyes looked, it shouldn't have felt like they were burning a hole through his head.

But it did, and he was pretty sure they would if given enough time, which meant he had to do something if he wanted to make it less awkward.

"Are you... crying?"

"I am _not_ crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!"

Jesse never spoke. Not to him, anyway, though he was sure he was the only one who got the silent treatment. It was always sharp looks and rolled eyes, but despite run-ins at the market and their usual interactions at Endercon, she had yet to say so much as a word to him.

Well, until now, and it was because he'd made her start sobbing. That wasn't exactly how he hoped it would happen.

(Not that he'd hoped that she'd start talking to him. With his luck, she'd be rambler and would never shut up. He just wondered every now and then, was all, about when she would and what her voice sounded like. He'd only ever really heard it from a distance, and he could safely say he'd never heard it stilted and thick like it was now.)

" _That's_ the best you can do?" Aiden sat down, choosing not to slide down the wall so his jacket wouldn’t get scratched up, one of his feet covering one of the few pitiful scraggly tufts of yellow grass that poked out of the ground between bits of grit. "'Jerk'? Really? Come on, you spend all your time just glaring at me and not saying anything. Don't you have anything better than that?"

Saying the look he got was flat would be like saying that the streets were only sort of filled with people. It was a look he was more familiar with, icy and sharp and not up for dealing with his usual brand of bullshit.

"Okay, fine. I'm allergic to _assholes_."

Aiden raised an eyebrow, and Jesse either gave up on or couldn’t hide her smile anymore. He pretended to think about it for a few moments, humming lightly before shrugging and shaking his head.

"...nope. Still not feeling it. You can't suck more at insults than you already do at building."

Her groan sounded as fake as his hum did, but all the same her smile disappeared a moment later.

"Why are you talking to me, Aiden?"

He wanted to say that it was none of her business, and he nearly did, but she was kind of the person he was talking to, which meant even he couldn’t deny that it was at least partly her business.

It wasn’t often that he had to swallow his words.

"I could ask you the same thing." Aiden shifted, crossing one leg over the other as he linked his hands and put them behind his head, tilting his chin up slightly. "Besides, I don't have to waste my time here."

"Don't let me stop you." Jesse straightened up, pressing her back to the brick wall, as her hand shot up just in time to catch the handkerchief Aiden tossed her way before he settled his hands behind his head again. It was light blue and faded, and he'd been meaning to get a better one anyway. He definitely didn't want it back, especially not after Jesse used it to wipe under her eyes. "Why aren't you with your friends?"

"Just because we're a great team doesn't mean we have to be attached at the hip all the time." He didn’t bother to hold back his eye roll. It seemed like it was really easy for everyone to think of the Ocelots as some sort of collective, like they had to be to be as good as they were, as if they weren’t all just incredible builders and even better friends. Aiden made sure his glance at the moving crowd on the street lasted long enough for Jesse to notice. "'sides, where're yours? Don't tell me they ditched you after you ran crying to them."

" _No_. They're around." Jesse crossed her arms, opening her mouth to say more before sighing and closing it. She stared at the ground for several seconds before looking back up at Aiden with a grimace that looked like it was a failed attempt at either a smile or a frown. "They don't know I'm here. They think I'm just roaming the festival, like yours do."

They were both bathed in red light as a firework went off almost right above them, a giant circle that took a small while to fade and fizzle.

"That’s a pretty big assumption on your part."

"If you thought they knew where you were, you wouldn't be hanging out with a loser."

"We're not hanging out." An actual insult, biting and sharp, came to mind, but Aiden found himself shoving it aside at Jesse’s grin and the one worming its way onto his face. He really hoped this wasn’t going to become a trend. "Shut up. I'm not the one bawling on the ground."

"Right. You're just a jerk." Jesse's grin could almost be confused for being warm as Aiden raised an eyebrow again. "Sorry, _asshole_."

"Yup. Don't you forget it." Aiden hesitated before getting to his feet, brushing his jacket off before turning back towards the street, pausing to glance back at Jesse. "Good luck, loser. Your friends are gonna start looking for you soon if you don't show up."

He couldn’t hear if she said anything over the steady roar of the crowd and the fireworks, and when he looked back, the alley was already empty.

Besides, he had his own friends to get back to, ones that probably were starting to wonder where he was.

Not that it looked like he’d need an excuse.

Aiden winced as he approached the food stall, a large group of people crowding the front and every other nearby stall looking just as busy.


	279. Hiding

Lukas doesn't want to think he's ignorant, but there's a lot about the world he doesn't know.

It doesn't help that he's only ever been to a few other villages, all of them close to the small city he currently lives in.

It may be a city to the surrounding area, filled with forests, fields, and farms, but he's heard it's nothing compared to the more popular and populated ones, even if it continues to slowly get new people.

That doesn't mean they're just some rundown village in the middle of nowhere, and it's not like it's the most basic or backwards place to live, but the more people that visit and move here, the more Lukas realizes there's something he wants.

Most of the people who have been joining the city have been hybrids, a large chunk of them coming to live here with non-hybrid friends. And while it's not like hybrids are rare, the Ocelots being one of the few groups that targets hybrids, and they really bother anyone, normal or not, for being less than perfect, seeing more and more hybrids happy with who they are, happy with non-hybrids that they're either friends or in relationships with, is something of an odd wake up call.

At least, it's definitely helped him realize he wants something like that.

Lukas is feeling weirdly selfish. Selfish enough where he's actually ready to act on it, for once, to stop thinking of what could be and what-ifs and actually doing something about it.

He wants to stop constantly having to hide his tail, wearing pants too baggy for anyone to tell and sitting in odd positions that keep him from sitting on it, stop covering his ears with a wool cap that does the job without being too constricting but is always itchy and hot, wants to hug his friends and be allowed to purr like he always wants to.

(It's so selfish. He's lucky enough that his friends like him as he is. It's not fair to expect them to still like him after finding out what he really is, but he can hope. He sees what Jesse's group has, how happy the people, hybrids and non-hybrids alike, are when they aren't judgmental about who they're friends with based solely on something they can't change.)

It's weird. He's thought about it, had dreams and nightmares about it, but now he's actually doing it.

Or he would be if he could find a way to start this letter.

He’s not confident enough to say it out loud, not yet, but writing it sounds doable. At least, it did before he found out how hard this really is.

Lukas knows what he wants to say, but he knows all too well how many ways this could go wrong and he's not really sure if there's any way to make sure it goes right. His hand shakes too much and ink splatters on the page before he even writes the first word.

_~~I've been hiding something from you.~~ _

The sheet of paper quickly gets crumpled up and tossed to the ground. Nope.

That makes it sound like he did something wrong. Something they _should_ be mad about.

Maybe they should? He's been lying to them this whole time, whether or not he thinks he has good reasons, and it's all been to hide a pretty big part of him that they've made clear they hate when it comes to everyone else.

_~~Please don't hate me—~~_

A second ball of paper joins the first one.

That's just as bad. It might even be a little worse, and Lukas doubts begging for mercy right off the bat is going to make any of them feel more relaxed or any less likely to jump to conclusions.

_~~I'm a hybrid.~~ _

A growl actually escapes Lukas as he all but hurls the squashed up, misshapen paper at the ground.

Notch, no.

He wants to be honest, not blunt to the point of being suicidal.

Outright saying it, or writing it in this case, is terrifying, and at the same time all too easy. He knows that if anything would make them confused an angry, a note with just that sentence and no explanation, no apologies, would be the easiest way to make sure they hate him.

His quill taps against the desk a few times before he takes a deep breath, other hand playing with several of the deeper grooves in the wood, and picks up a fresh sheet.

They’re still his friends.

_Hey guys,_

_I want you to know you're the best friends I could ask for. It's never just been about the winning, or just trying to be the best, as nice as both of those can be. We've had a lot of fun, whether we're competing or just hanging out._

_But you guys already know that, so I'll get straight to the point._

_I'm not entirely human. I don't even know if you'll think of me as a person after this._

_I have a tail, fuzzy ears, and would probably be a better mascot for our team than you think._

_I know you guys don't like hybrids, and I know this might seem like it's out of nowhere, but I've been thinking about this for a while. I think we'd all be even happier if you were friends with who and what I really am and not what I pretend to be._

_If you don't want anything to do with me after this, I get it. I don't blame you and I'm sorry for lying. I hope we can all still be friends and that this won't change anything._

_Whatever you decide, thanks,_

_Lukas_

Lukas swallows as he reads it over. Yeah, they’re his friends.

But there's no denying that he's been hiding things from them. And sure, while all of them are different in their own ways, Maya never being without her gloves is different from Lukas never being without his hat. _She_ doesn't do it to trick anyone.

Part of him hopes they've already pieced it together, but he's tried so hard to hide things and none of them have stopped picking on hybrids.

(More than once he wanted to have his tail removed, but he’d be marked as a hybrid as soon as he went to real healer, and the more black market options… don’t sound all too appealing. An infected stump would be no better than a fluffy tail.)

His wardrobe is filled with odd choices that make hiding his body easy but don't tend to mesh well with all types of weather. In winter, they work best, his baggy pants and fuzzy hat looking fine when paired with a good coat, but it’s hard to justify the same clothes in weather that might just make him overheat.

Still, it might just be because his entire wardrobe is consistently off that it doesn't raise as many red flags as it could, and Lukas has had to choke back and cut off a countless number of purrs before anyone can hear them. Really, that just might give them the impression that he doesn't like being touched, and Lukas has always done more than his best to keep from letting his behavior shift at all in the colder months. The last thing he needed to give him away was bulking up like all the other hybrids, especially with how little the Ocelots eat.

Even if his behavior regularly shifts slightly, and Lukas honestly has no idea if it does or not, as much as he knows it makes him want to be more affectionate when he can't, Aiden hates the snow and spends all his time grumpy indoors, and Maya and Gill seem to get a bit more affectionate too anyways, so it might just be a normal person thing.

As for in general, well...

Gill's always tired, and Lukas bets the nights spent not sleeping well, if the constant dark circles under his eyes and how sleepy he can get say anything, don't make piecing together random, accidental clues any easier. And even if Maya and Aiden almost never seem that tired, it's not like Lukas has been _trying_ to tip them off.

It makes this all the scarier and all the easier. It'll be out of nowhere, but at least he probably won't have to deal with any of them claiming they knew he was lying to them and already hating his guts for that.

(His fingers tug at one side of the hat, one of his ears twitching as he does, and he can’t wait to be able to get rid of it. As much as part of him thinks his obsessive hair care has something to do with grooming, Aiden seems just as fixated on it, which means showing off the hair he spends hours cleaning and styling will hopefully also be one of the things people will take easiest.)

He's doing this.

For better or worse, he won't have to worry about it anymore after tonight.

And Lukas can't think of anything more freeing than that.

* * *

 

That doesn’t keep the letter from feeling like a block of iron when he puts it in the pocket of his jacket, though.

(He’s doing this.)

He spends the entire competition hoping the letter doesn’t fall out of his pocket when he’s building, the wind constant but not nearly hard enough to interrupt their building and only making them shift where they keep the bucket of sand, and checking to make sure it hasn’t. The judges finally visiting their build is nothing short of a relief, and finding out that they’ve won yet again is satisfying in the way it always is.

(He’s really doing this.)

They're walking by the build that got second place, a lava fountain made of various types of dyed glass and clay, and between the fireworks and the laughter, between the thrill of winning and the way Lukas feels like he's happy to the point of being ready to burst, now seems like the perfect time to give them the letter. He’s more than happy to take it out of his pocket, neatly folded in a square, and unfold it to double check it one last time while they’re distracted before giving it to them. He can go to the stalls they always visit first and wait for them, and if they still show up, he'll know they _—_

Lukas's blood goes cold as the breeze picks up and the paper slips in his grip and is blown out of his hand.

His blood then becomes ice, time seeming to slow down as Lukas tries to run after it, outstretching a hand and fingers closing around empty air as it burns in the lava moat. His other hand is gripping the wall keeping the lava contained, but the rest of him almost feels ready to jump in.

He can’t really hear what the leader of the fountain’s building team is telling him as his eyes drift to the other Ocelots, heading over to him and looking concerned.

A normal person, or any other hybrid, would walk up and tell them. They wouldn't feel too scared to talk to their best friends or admit it like Lukas is. Or they would write another letter and give it to them another day.

But when it comes to things like this, stuff that can go very bad very quickly, Lukas is a coward. And while he felt so confident this morning, now he's struggling to see how this could go well at all, on any day or in any place. He wants to think he'd be this way if he was normal, but he doesn't see how anybody _but_ an ocelot hybrid could be so ready to bolt from their own friends.

"Lukas?" He isn’t sure how he could have missed them getting so close, hands twitching as they fall to his sides and as Maya puts a hand on his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Are you okay?

“Huh?” It takes him a few seconds to understand what she asked him. _So stupid, so stupid, such a bad idea, why did he think—_  “Oh. I _—_ I’m fine.”

“Oh, come on.” Aiden doesn’t sound or look like he’s buys it, raising an eyebrow as he glances at the lava, sizzling and crackling like it hasn’t just eaten the one thing Lukas had been dreading and looking forward to all day. “What's so great about that piece of paper?”

Aiden’s gaze drifts to the building team, who are keeping their distance, before glaring at one of the members. The one he’s focusing on isn’t the leader. Instead, his target has a long, hairless tail, large front teeth, and two round furry ears.

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"...nothing. Forget about it. Just some trash I needed to get rid of." He shoves his hands in his pockets, smiling as he motions with his head to the already swarmed stalls. It doesn't matter that his smile doesn't reach his eyes, or that they don’t quite look like they believe him. It will sooner or later, and they’ll forget this soon enough. "Come on, let's go. If we wait around too long, they'll run out of all the good stuff."

And all of a sudden Lukas is almost being dragged along through the crowd, and the laugh he gives doesn't sound as hollow as he feels. It's okay; he'll get over it.

It was a dumb idea anyway.


	280. Moping

Maybe it's a given, but feeling useless isn't particularly helpful.

Or desired. In _any_ way, shape, or form.

Olivia groans as she lets her forehead rest on her desk, absently brushing some scribble filled pages away with a hand.

Inadequacy shouldn't be the main emotion of the person who's supposed to be a hero and the best redstone engineer in the world. The stuff she can do now easily blows away whatever she could cobble together for some stupid building competition, but lately it feels like that's the best claim she can make.

Which is stupid.

She comes up with new designs every other day, and someone who can build as fast as she can, and she _knows_ she's only been getting better, shouldn't feel like the worst inventor of all time. It's frustrating.

So, in some sick twisted way, Olivia supposes the reason she's feeling even more inadequate is because lately she's been feeling inadequate.

Yeah.

Fun.

The party that might as well be shaking the walls, the one that sounds like it's right above her head and ready to make the ceiling collapse on her while she works, probably doesn't help her headache either.

It’s not like they invited random people, but after months of adventuring, they don’t have a shortage of friends. Friends who were more than happy to come over, and most of them people Olivia would like to try and catch up with.

Not that she will, because she’s working.

Or trying to and failing.

Olivia is torn between ripping her ears off and just pulling all of her hair out when there are multiple loud and rapid thumps, noisy enough to be heard over the machinery, coming from outside her room. She looks up from her desk, hand on the back of her chair as she sighs and gets to her feet, but there's a definite pause where there's no noise at all.

She's about to sit back down when there are several more thumps, much louder and much closer, her fingers digging into the chair and her heart just about freezing before her shoulders relax the next moment.

She knows who that is.

She just has no idea why he's at her door.

She trudges to the door, keeping herself from dragging her feet across the floor out of a desire not to trip on any tools, and isn't surprised by the goofy smile she sees when she opens it.

It's a sloppy, toothy grin, crooked and lopsided and wider than it has any right to be, and maybe it's just how late it must be, but even with how purely _Axel_ the smile is, it feels off.

All doors in the temple are easily large enough to let him in without him having to duck his head, but he still manages to loom in the doorway, gaze carrying the same silly but strangely odd look.

"Axel?" Olivia turns her head to look away from him to the clock on the wall, dim redstone torch light simply bouncing off the golden rim and making it even harder to see. "What time is it?"

His voice is low, slow and easy as he keeps grinning. It's an automatic red flag, with how noisy the party is, and how he nearly stumbles over his words.

Now that she thinks about it, she's lucky he didn't have some nasty prank waiting for her as soon as she answered the door.

"Dunno. Don't care." His grin gets even wider and a second red flag pops up as he takes another step into the room. Olivia can't see anything in his hands, but she's tired and she knows how creative he can be when he wants to get a laugh. "But do you know what I _do_ care about?"

She knows she doesn't like where this is going. He's used this same exact setup a dozen times before, and every time is worse than the last. And there's something so familiarly wrong about this, about the way he's acting, and she just can't put her finger on it.

But hey, she's tired, and humoring him isn't the worst thing she's ever done.

It's just not one of her brighter ideas.

"What?"

There's a short pause, lasting a few moments at most, before he leans down, mouth close to her ear. His voice gets almost giddy as it lowers to a whisper.

"Pants are just an illusion."

The smell of alcohol gets to be stronger than the smell of redstone and her machines, the scent, bitter and musty, overcoming smoke and grease, and it's pretty clear it isn't just from the party.

Oh.

Well, it's... better than she thought? She's not the victim of any real pranks yet.

"What? You _—_ oh Notch. You're drunk." She's seen him tipsy more times than she cares to list, but she can only count the number of times he's been well and drunk on one hand, and right now she's willing to bet he's also teetering on the edge of "positively hammered". It's not an easy feat, for somebody who's almost seven feet tall. The again, if there's any party that would have strong enough stuff, the one above them sounds like the perfect candidate. "And you came to me?"

"Yeah _—_ er... well, not on purpose. I guess I went up the wrong stairs." Never mind that her workshop is in the basement, and the only way to get there is to go _down_ a set of stairs. "Doesn't matter."

Olivia doesn't bother trying to close the door before she moves back to her desk, absently tugging at part of her hair.

"Right." Olivia raises an eyebrow before looking back down at the pile of paperwork that's almost too haphazard to be considered a pile, picking up a quill as she continues. "Well, I'm not dragging you back up the stairs."

"You gotta if you're gonna get a drink."

The party spikes in volume, making Olivia stiffen as however many of their friends cheer at something or other. By now, it might just be because of how drunk they are.

Or how much fun they’re having.

Just because it’s loud and crazy doesn’t mean everyone has to be drinking. She could go upstairs and just relax, talk to people. Actually have a good time.

"I'm not drinking." Olivia bites back a huff as Axel's expression twists. Exaggerated or not, he has no right to look as offended as he does. "I have work to do."

"So? You always do." His voice teeters between too slow and too fast, bouncing between both extremes as he shrugs. "What's the harm in havin fun? And there's not. No harm in having fun."

"I don't want to drink."

She does.

She wants to get up, go upstairs, and party and drink until she can't see straight, until she can hardly remember her name, until she can actually go to bed without feeling guilty.

But the thick, almost cottony feeling in her head that accompanies the dull throbbing of her headache tells her a drink is the last thing she needs, and she wants sleep just as much as she wants a drink. She's not getting any of that, either.

"You always want to drink. You just never actually do it."

There are a million ways he could say it. He could whine, or grumble, or even try to joke about it. But he doesn't.

It almost sounds like a serious observation.

And Olivia knows that when Axel's being serious, it's time to shut things down before they go too far. He's more observant than most people think, and usually twice as blunt.

"Axel, go to bed."

"Nope."

"If you party any harder, your hangover's going to kill you." She glances at Axel, who's now leaning against the door and looking like he's torn between falling flat on his face and bolting so he can burst through some poor, unsuspecting wall. "At this point, it might do that anyway."

"Exactly!" Any trace of anything serious is gone from his voice, replaced by that stupid toothy grin that's as endearing as it is frustrating, which is frightening in and of itself. "So what's the point in stopping?"

"No, I need to work and you need to sleep." He sticks his tongue out at her and she's probably more surprised than he is that she's able to hold back her eye roll. "Or to close your eyes and stop drinking. Whatever suits you."

She starts to unroll a blueprint, several tiny tears and ink splotched dotting one of the sides, when Axel mutters. It's not low enough to be an actual mutter, his voice too loud and with the same infuriating underlying teasing tone it always has, but it has the same effect as a mutter.

"Spoilsport."

Olivia’s quill stops before it can reach the paper, and she turns it between her fingers.

She'll never be good enough if she stops now.

"Axel."

"Stick in the mud."

Everyone else is doing so well, doing so much and for so many people every single day, and she can't fail them when they already expect so little of her. She can't just ditch her work to party and drink and expect anything to get done.

"Axel." She glances up at him, one finger tapping several times against her stack of paperwork. "Knock it off."

"Killjoy."

She'll never be good enough if she does her work when she's half asleep and mopey like this.

" _Axel_!" Olivia pauses, and she counts it as a miracle that Axel doesn't interrupt as she looks back up at him. "...if I join the party will you shut up and go to bed?"

And Olivia realizes a second too late, as Axel gives his toothiest and biggest grin yet, that she’s made the worst mistake she could.

Even to her, that sounds like she pretty much just said yes.

"No promises!"

And the next thing Olivia knows, he's holding onto her arm and tugging her out the door, the chair lying on its side behind them and half of her papers on the ground. She's pretty sure the inkwell wasn't knocked over, thankfully, but it's hard to tell when Axel's dragging her like he's the one who hasn't had anything to drink yet.

She can always deal with it tomorrow.

...if the party doesn't kill her first.


	281. Flood (Ellegaard/Magnus)

A cave isn't usually a good place, or really any place at all, to try and warm up.

Caves aren't known for being warm.

(Or safe. Or anything other than dens for lurking monsters and being stripped of their ores and anything worth entering in the first place. No one wants to use a cave for shelter when even digging and hiding in a hole seems safer.)

A cave, cool, dark, and often damp, tends to be a good place to be to be colder, really. Unless, of course, it's so wet and cold everywhere else, the wind strong enough to make trees constantly sway and bend, said wind howling past and through everything it can as the rain continues to pound in thick and unrelenting sheets.

When the ground becomes mush, a sloppy, muddy mix of grasses and thick blankets of leaves, too runny to stand on and too thick to really run through, when it gets dark and rains hard enough to make a sea of monsters and a flash flood itself seem not only possible, but inevitable, when a rain forest lives up to its name and becomes more bitingly cold water than actual forest...

Well, then a cave becomes a much better place to warm up.

Especially because, while it may not be the coldest weather, it's not particularly warm and Magnus is soaking wet.

Ellegaard had seen it coming first, a rush of water down the center of the winding valley they'd been trekking through, and while she knows her warning was as loud as it could be, that didn't keep it from narrowly missing her at the same time it hit Magnus. Of their packs, Ellegaard had only been holding onto one when she'd all but lunged out of the way, and the other two had quickly been swept away.

Which means they lost most of their rations, building materials, and pretty much all of their basic tools. Their spare clothes had luckily been in the pack she held onto, along with a handful of torches and a flint and steel.

All of which they'd used up almost immediately. Warming up, and drying off their drenched clothes, meant making a fire, and not letting monsters spawn in their shelter is a good idea.

Said fire is a roaring blaze, a mess of orange and golden flames dancing around each other and fighting to eat up the limited fuel as fast as they can while they struggle to stretch towards the ceiling. It’s bright but weak, and a perfect opposite for the weather raging outside.

With the firewood, kept miraculously dry by the thick leather pack, they have left, Ellegaard knows they won’t be able to keep the fire going past dawn.

With any luck, they won’t need to, but she curses herself for not thinking to pack heavier backup clothes.

Their current outfits aren’t much more than a simple shirt and pair of pants each, and neither are anywhere near as useful as a jacket or even a blanket would be. The socks she packed are replacing the ones he forgot to, but she knows it’s not enough to keep Magnus as warm as he should be.

In her defense, they had prepared for a small exploration, meant to take a few hours at most, not for an overnight exercise in survival.

The sun was hidden behind clouds hours ago, harmless looking clouds that weren't supposed to turn into a terrifying behemoth of a storm, and it's far too late now for it to have any chance of coming out and warming things up now, when they need it.

She supposes they could've built their own shelter, but the shift in weather didn't give them much time and she's not going to pretend either of them are more than decent builders on their best days.

And today has not been one of their best days. Calling it a good day is a stretch.

They had almost nothing to work with when the weather started to take a turn for the worst, sky churning as the clouds went from a light grey to an almost inky black in a matter of minutes.

When they'd found this cave, they didn't even have enough supplies to fully block the entrance. On the brighter side of things, they'd barely been able to make it in themselves as it was, having to crawl through the low but wide gap in the stone.

At the time, she'd expected it to be some sort of den, and as much as she didn't want a fight, they weren't going to have many options if somebody was taking up their temporary shelter.

It was a relief to find it cold but empty.

Looking at it now, Ellegaard gets more of the impression that it could, one day, become a den for some kind of creature. Right now, however, it looks more like an underground pool of water that dried up, the floor almost entirely flat and most of the cave’s edges rounded. There’s a steep dip from the opening, which means that, while the roof isn’t much higher than the one they had to deal with while crawling, there’s enough space between it and the floor that Ellegaard has no trouble comfortably standing, and at eye level with the entrance.

The ceiling is like the rest of the cave, made of what has to be thick stone, meaning that water would have a much harder time draining in than it would if it were made of mud and clay, something Ellegaard especially appreciates with the storm they're currently dealing with.

The roof collapsing on them would be another unneeded, unnecessary, and unwanted nail in the coffin.

What keeps them from being flooded now or affected by the flash flood and raging storm that chased them here in the first place is the same thing that seems to have kept it from filling back up over time: the odd angle of the entrance.

While the floor of the cave itself is almost entirely flat, like it was carved out of the inside of the hill, the opening is tilted in a way that made them climb up to get in instead of down, and is located on the side of said hill, with a bit of dirt and moss covered stone reaching past the actual entrance and making it almost impossible for any of the water to flow back in.

It keeps them dry, or as dry as they can hope to be, and lets Ellegaard safely watch the water drain down the hill.

Roots, muddied and drenched, hang over the edge of the top, dripping ever so slowly onto the slanted ground, the trickle of dirtied water mixing in with the mulch and the muck as it steadily drains downhill and disappears into the constant tiny splashes made by the rain and much faster water still tearing its way through the dip between the hills.

Ellegaard’s fingers absently trace the edge of the stone, still wet from all the water Ellegaard and Magnus had managed to drag in.

Thunder rumbles in the background, shifting but never stopping, at its quietest a steady grumble underlying the storm and at its loudest a series of sharp booms that takes center stage.

The torches they have set up around the cave are immensely comforting, flames smaller and far less intense than the roaring fire but just as appreciated as their light stretches from smoothed corners to jagged grooves in the wall, even if having them lit means even more light tries its hardest to pour through the cave opening and out into the monster filled night.

She's heard the occasional, far off clicking of a skeleton and the groans of zombies she can't see and may or may not be imagining. The shrieks, croaks, and chirps of frogs that seem to be utterly delighted by the weather make it hard to tell what she’s hearing, as does the pounding of the rain.

The good news is that both monsters are far too uncoordinated and, frankly, stupid to be able to crawl uphill through the partly blocked off entrance with the weather like it is now, and even if any of them tries, the telltale scratching would be impossible to miss. A spider would be too big to do more than awkwardly scuttle up the low entrance before getting stuck, and cave spiders don't go anywhere near the surface when the weather's like this.

If anything, they go deeper, and she and Magnus are lucky enough that their shelter isn't connected to other underground pockets or winding tunnels.

From what little she can see in the blurry and rain streaked dark, the water rushes strong and hard, but even at its highest it only went halfway up to the start of their shelter, and now it seems to have dipped again, the rain still harsh and fierce but not as brutal or fierce as it was.

That being said, it's late enough that leaving now is suicide, even if the weather does eventually settle down. At this rate, it won't really calm down for several more hours, maybe even not until the sun's come back up and the next day's begun.

At least it looks nothing from the outside will get them, not without giving them enough warning and getting a proper fight, if they stay here.

But it’s not what’s on the outside the worries her.

Not anymore than it usually does, anyways.

Ellegaard turns from the opening, tearing her gaze from the soaked world outside to the body lying beside the fire.

Out of all of them, Magnus has always had the most trouble staying warm. Ellegaard might have been caught in the rain, which can be unforgiving as it is, but at least she hadn't been knocked off her feet by a wall of rushing water. She doesn't even want to think about how lucky they are that he didn't hit his head, and even luckier still that he was able to all but claw his way back onto higher and, comparatively, drier ground.

Having no hair means there's no drenched or dripping hair to keep his head damp and cold, but it also means there's nothing to keep it warm.

Ellegaard would gladly give him her helmet if it wasn't drying out beside the rest of their clothes and armor, warmer and better than it had been but still damp and cold.

That being said, she can do better to keep him warm, and fully intends to as she walks away from the opening, sitting down beside him as soon as she reaches his side. A warm body is a better way to warm him up than a helmet, dry or not, would ever be.

"Move over." She doesn't wait for him to shift before wrapping her arms around him, wincing and pausing for only a moment as her fingers curl around his arms, stopping right below where the sleeves begin.

Notch, he's _freezing_.

He's dry, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need to warm him up, and quickly.

"Ellie?" The crackling fire manages to be louder than his voice, little more than a slurred mumble, but she hears him all the same. His eyes are closed, neither bothering to open as he frowns, arms wrapping around her anyway.

“I don’t want to romantically cuddle with you, this is a necessary evil; there is no romance involved.”

She likes nothing about how cold he is, how sleepy, how tired and worn out both of them are and should be, but she tries to give the words some sort of warmth to match her smile.

That seems to get his attention.

"Nobody said anythin about it being romantic." He looks up at her now, squinting in the firelight as his frown twists into a smirk. "Good to know I'm freezing to death and you're more worried about smooching, though."

"Like I said, it's necessary. I know you." Ellegaard gives a softer smile before pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "Shut up and start cuddling."

"Being awful pushy ‘bout it for somebody who doesn't want to touch me." Her shoulders shouldn't relax the way they do, but she can hear the grin in his voice and it's more relieving than it has any right to be.

She huffs, an empty sound that they both know means nothing, as she rolls her eyes.

"Do you want to be warm or not?"

She doesn't get a word out of him after that, but Magnus's much tighter grip as his chin digs into the back of her shoulder is as good an answer as any.


	282. Flawed

Ivor isn't a particularly feared man. Not anymore.

But fear and hatred are incredibly close, often thick as thieves and going hand in hand, and there's no doubt that he's hated.

The Order's city is large, too big to be a town and yet just new, just small, enough, that what everyone's thinking travels quickly and that the rumors, always changing but close enough, poisonous and sharp, that they might as well be the same, travel even faster.

They look at him from behind corners and partly blocked windows, sneer at him from their stalls and doorways. He doesn't need to stop, never needs to slow down, to know what they're saying, to know what the whispers, twisted and hissed and as unforgiving as time itself, say.

_"You're vile. You're foul. You're flawed.”_

Well, they're not wrong.

A person so desperate, so damaged and hungry for revenge, for some sort of closure, willing to stoop so low as to meddle with things never meant to be meddled with, must be flawed.

That he managed to create such a horrifying and powerful monster, and to set it loose upon an unsuspecting world without ever meaning for things to go so far, is foul.

And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, viler than his desperate and rash actions, so hasty and so stupid, so destined for failure even with his supposed testing, actions that led to the death of one of his best friends. The near destruction of an entire world, the near deaths of countless people, are on his hands, and there’s no getting rid of that kind of weight, that kind of guilt.

It may have been accidental, and it was never meant to hurt anyone, much less kill them, but a person capable of so much destruction and pain, no matter how sorry he is and no matter how hard he tries every single day to make up for what he did, is a despicable one.

He is less hated now than he once was, the gossip dying down as the novelty wears off and as people begrudgingly accept that he's not leaving anytime soon. They're stubborn people, most of them, and they seem to realize that he's stubborn too. Most tolerate him enough to ignore him when he enters the marketplace now, which is an improvement from the near mobs that used to gather.

A few even defend him or smile at him, which is nice, as rare as the encounters may be.

(The lava house, protested though it may have been, goes unharmed. It's not his usual choice, when it comes to a place to stay, but having a home of his own means more to him than it should. Even when they came back from their little portal adventure, the house was untouched, looking just as he left it, and maybe Ivor was wrong. After all, what's a little bit of well-founded fear but common sense? Only a fool messes with an alchemist, no matter how hated said alchemist is.)

No one's going to forget the mistakes he made, the damage he almost caused and the havoc that he did, but he knows it's already a point in his favor that he didn't run away. He was ready to face his punishment.

What he got instead was adventure.

An odd alternative, but not one he'll ever complain about. There are many worlds out there where people are more likely than not to recognize him, but in those he's known as part of the Order. What he did in another world doesn't concern them because he helped save theirs, even if the most he did was try to protect Jesse and the others.

(He is stubborn.

And he will always do more than just try.)

He wonders how much their opinions of him would change if they knew he'd originally been just as against Jesse, just as determined to do anything to win, as all the other villains that they've faced have been.

Ivor remembers it well enough, when he was desperate and fed up and torn between hunting Soren down for help and hunting him down just so Ivor could end him. Even then, he was busy worrying about revenge while the world was being stripped to nothing. They could've worked together to find Soren, could've been faster and smarter and kept anyone from dying at all.

Ivor made sure that didn't happen.

There's no doubt in his mind that, if either Jesse or Petra had been weaker or worse fighters, he'd have killed them. They had been obstacles, thorns in his side for too long and the reasons his creation had gone on to do any real harm in the first place, and killing them would've been as good a way to remove them as any.

(And now, if anyone else tries, regardless of how competent and skilled the Order already is, how cautious and prepared, Ivor doesn't doubt that he'll do his best to strike their attacker down first.

And if he failed at keeping them from getting harmed, if any of them were hurt...

Well, he can do damage just as much as he can heal it.

If there's one thing to be said for any alchemist, regardless of skill, it's that it's never hard for them to find or make ways to get people to scream.)

He is vile.

He is foul.

He is flawed.

And, most damning of all, he is only human.

But he is also loved.

It boggles and confuses Ivor on the best of days, and by now he knows better than to question it, to look for strings attached to every warm or kind interaction where there really are none.

(There can't be. After everything, he won't go through that again. He can't. There can't be more lies, more manipulations, more hidden motives.

He knows his limits and he knows it would kill him.)

He hardly thinks they've forgotten what he did, what he created and nearly caused, after all. The looming, leering, almost but not quite end of the world isn't a hard thing to remember, and neither are the occasions where he either left them for dead or outright tried to kill them.

And yet, for whatever reason, they look at him and see past that.

They look at him and Ivor feels like he has a family, for the first time in years, too many years, too long and filled with more hate and regret than Ivor will ever care to remember.

He is on better terms with his old friends than he used to be, if only because said terms couldn't have gotten worse, but he won't forget how happy he was to get revenge.

He'd wanted to see them crash and burn.

And Ivor supposes he did.

It just came in a way he should've seen coming but didn't expect until it was too late.

He killed one of them, killed them just as well as if he'd poisoned them and made them bleed out on the floor, and for all their lies, none of them deserved to die.

He should be behind bars. Or dead, but seeing as how that didn't work the first time, jail may just be the safer option.

Jesse is naive, so naive and forgiving and he swears it'll kill him if it doesn't get Jesse killed first.

But if he's getting a second chance, handed to him on nothing less than a silver platter and with the most earnest smiles he's ever seen, then he'd be a fool to turn it down.


	283. Letters

Aiden isn't expecting it.

None of them are.

He always thought he'd be the first one to make a move, always too desperate and impatient, but it looks like Lukas has managed to prove him wrong again. He's both just as surprised and not surprised at all when he finds out Maya and Gill were delivered two very similar letters.

He gets it right after work, the sharp knock at the door coming just after Aiden's locked it and hardly a moment before he has a chance to set his pickaxe down.

Aiden unlocks and opens the door expecting to be reprimanded for something or other he did at the mines, some problem someone had or some complication that must somehow be his fault. He expects it to be something a little more serious when Reginald's the one he finds waiting on the other side.

He's not expecting a letter.

He's also not expecting how familiar the handwriting on the envelope is, how it makes him feel like he's had the air knocked out of him and gets his brain to freeze.

Reginald spends the next few minutes explaining it, talking about how it was requested that the letters be hand delivered in order to make sure nobody tampered with them and how Aiden has a week to write and send a response, but it all just blurs together in his mind, along with the ache in his bones and the knowledge that he still has grime and dirt smudging his face and that his gloves are just as filthy, and means nothing compared to the name on the paper.

He thinks he mumbles some kind of "thank you", or maybe a few that probably don't sound as stable or sane as they should and maybe a little too awed and a bit too dazed, before all but snatching the letter up and darting back into the house, opening it before he's had a chance to sit down at the kitchen table. Any thoughts about the broken table leg are pushed aside for another month, maybe another week if he's lucky, as he starts to scan the page.

And Aiden knows Lukas's handwriting, probably better than he knows his own.

This is it, and before he starts to think about actually reading any of the words, the world comes crashing down, threatening to drown Aiden in his own thoughts and emotions, as it occurs to him that this is real, that the letter isn't some sick joke.

( _Lukas wrote this Lukas actually wrote him he's holding it in his hands he can't believe it he has to wake up soon why would he write him what did he do why won't his hands stop shaking_ )

He spends the next hour reading and rereading what’s actually written before thinking about checking in on Maya and Gill.

* * *

 Maya's not quite sure what to think.

The letter is undeniably angry, equal parts venting about what they did and stilted updates about how things have been in their world. It's short, short enough to hardly count as a letter at all, but it's not an execution notice, which is always nice. It ends on a more pleasant note than she'd expect it to too, Lukas even extending her the customary questions about how things have been for them.

(Warmer than they were in jail, that's for certain. Rough and with a false sense of control, but better than bleak and no control at all.

Fine, she writes.)

Is she bitter?

Oh yeah. Big time.

(She's bitter from the way her stomach drops and twists when she first sees the letter to the way her nails dig into her palms and the way she doesn't know she's bleeding until she reaches out to take the letter and the envelope ends up smeared with blood. She's bitter from the way her nightmares are playing on repeat to the way there's something far lighter bubbling up inside her and threatening to make her far too optimistic, give her way too much hope.)

Not that she doesn't get it. She hates how much sense it makes, how little she can blame Lukas for leaving them behind after they tried to kill him. There were so many places, so many times, where they could've backed out, should've stopped before things went too far, would've immediately tried to fix if they were better people.

She can't blame him.

And that's what angers her the most, because there's nothing she hates more than feeling like they've been tossed aside and left to rot, but he could've died because of them. Maya thought they had killed him, for a small while. Who would be crazy, or stupid, enough to forgive them after that, be willing to get close enough to them to do anything more than glare at them?

Not Lukas. He's always been more cautious, the voice of reason. She'd say it bordered on being cowardly, but she doesn't doubt he wouldn't have let Aiden go so far if he'd been with them. Maya doesn't doubt Aiden would've been fine if Lukas hadn't left, disappeared without a note or any other explanation.

It's been quite a while, but she supposes the letter's the closest thing to a note they're ever going to get.

And she assumes that’s that. She writes up and sends a reply the same day as Gill and Aiden, and isn’t surprised by the lack of a response in the following weeks.

But, sure enough, Reggie comes knocking on the door again, and she thinks he's just as surprised as they are that there are more letters.

And, bitter or not, sick to her stomach or not, guilty or angry or not, Maya barely takes the time to hand Gill his letter before tearing into hers.

* * *

 Gill will be the first to admit that he expected to be stabbed the first few nights after he got the letter. Or shot through some vital body part with an arrow, or poisoned.

(Being one of the most hated people in the city means he's used to watching his back, used to constantly looking over his shoulder and around corners for people willing and able to pick a fight, especially when Maya and Aiden are concerned. The nightmares get much worse for a while after he starts to expect to find one of them half dead one of these mornings.)

Because a letter from Lukas is everything any of them could hope for, even now when they're used to the idea of being in touch with the man who used to be their best friend and who they tried to murder, which means that, if nothing else, it's also too good to be true.

It has to be. It's been over a year and the other shoe feels like it's going to crush him anyway if it isn't dropped soon.

He's not sure how the other two responded to the first letters, and they didn't tell him. Not that Aiden's frantic pacing and absolute whirlwind of expressions, just as fast and all over the place as he used to be, didn't say enough, or that Gill still can't forget how Maya couldn't stop bouncing her knee and tapping her foot. It's not his place to ask, not even later, not even when the threat of Lukas going quiet again slowly but surely dies down.

They're almost a regular thing, the letters, at this point, and Gill still finds himself asking what the catch is each and every time. Not that he ever asks that in any of the letters he writes back to Lukas, but he gets the feeling he doesn't have to. Sometimes, he's not sure Lukas even knows the answer.

He knows Maya would tell him what she wrote, if he asked. She's joked more than once about just dictating what she wants written down to Gill because his handwriting's always been better than hers.

But it's not his place.

This, being able to write to Lukas, being able to contact him in a way that's actually almost personal, is special.

And maybe they're all making too big a deal out of writing some letters, maybe he's the only one blowing it up in his head, but, Gill notes to himself as he sets a piece of paper and an almost empty inkwell down, it doesn't matter. What he writes is his business, whether it's about what random minor thing happened at work, a more personal matter, or what actual big event is coming up for the entire city, and how serious he takes it, regardless of whether or not Lukas cares nearly as much and he doubts it, is for him and only him to know.

* * *

 Lukas tries not to be too cocky. He's seen what that does to people, and being too sure of himself only to crash and burn hardly sounds fun.

But when it comes to things he's proud of himself for doing, not a day goes by that he doesn't think of how different things would be if he'd never written, or never sent, three certain letters written for three certain people.

Jesse might've suggested writing the first ones, but after that, it's been Lukas who's kept pushing himself to write the letters, not Jesse. Jesse swore that it would all be up to Lukas and that there wouldn't be any outside pushing for him to keep in touch with the Oce _—_ Blaze _—_ _others_ , and Lukas doesn't see that promise getting broken anytime soon given that it hasn't been broken in the years since.

He still has nightmares, of being tossed from a ledge while his shoulder throbs and aches, of the sheer terror that comes with falling through the air with no idea if it'll ever end or how, but they're rarer. If he's being honest, that just might have to do with all the other adventures they've been on that have given his nightmares plenty of options to choose from, but it helps that there isn't just a bubbling pit of anger in his stomach anymore when he thinks of the people who used to be his best friends.

There's a gap that he's still not sure they can ever really bridge, but being able to let go of all of the hate, all of the fury that he used to swear he could always feel building and building without ever stopping, feels like a good compromise. Lukas didn't really realize how much he missed talking to them until he started again.

It's... it's something.

He doesn't know if he'll ever stop getting headaches from the conflicting feelings, from the clawing anger and fear to the more subdued but persistent happiness and grief, but at least he's not afraid anymore of snapping one of these days and hunting them down. His temper's never been his best friend, and it's about time he got a better hold on it.

It might never stop surprising him, the way he can genuinely smile or even laugh when reading some of the letters, sometimes just because of how _them_ the letters can be, and sometimes it surprises him even more how quickly he moves to write them again as soon as he finishes reading their letters, but it's not a bad kind of surprise. It's different, and sometimes he can feel that old anger building up again, feel it churning in his stomach and refusing to leave. It helps, though, that those sometimes happen less and less the more their letters get him to smile and laugh.

It’s amazing, how much knowing how well their new jobs are going or how Maya and Gill’s attempts to fix up the latest problems with their house have been working out makes it feel like a giant weight’s missing.

And he's not sure when the drawers full of their letters, some nearly overflowing and certain letters admittedly crinkled and creased while the ink manages not to fade, became some of the most important items tucked around his quarters, but he's not complaining.

* * *

 There's no denying that the highlight of Aiden's week is when another letter, always in pristine condition and looking far better than Aiden himself, arrives.

They're almost weekly now, even if they're almost always short, but they prove to be the perfect pick-me-ups when Maya and Gill's attempts fail and working in the mines gets especially grueling.

One day, when the wind's howling outside and blowing around the weaker plants like they're made of string while dust and dirt roll about in waves, there's something a little different waiting for Aiden when there's a knock at his door.

The knock is softer, quieter, than Aiden's used to, but he's sure the weather must just be taking up more of his attention for once.

It's a flimsy excuse that definitely falls through when he opens the door, the wind attempting to pull it out of his grip.

It's not Reggie holding the letter, and Aiden feels whatever words he was going to say die before they ever get a chance to leave his mouth while he stares. He doesn't say anything, not at first, even as a little voice in the back of his head screams and screeches at him.

He doesn't think anybody could blame him for freezing up, though.

He hasn't seen Lukas in a long time.

And Aiden's not sure if he's ready to pass out or if he's ready to cling to Lukas and never let go, but he feels lightheaded and half convinced that it's all a dream. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had one like this, after all.

But he's never felt this dizzy in any of those dreams, and the smaller details, the layer of dust coating Lukas's shoes and the fainter dusting of it covering his pants and jacket or the way his goggle strap is slightly frayed and faded on one side, have never been there before.

Lukas himself looks a little different too. In Aiden's dreams, Lukas has always looked just like he did when Aiden last saw him, which, in hindsight, isn't exactly realistic. There's no doubt in his mind that the man in front of him is Lukas, from the tired smile to the way his hair's styled even while another gust of air tries to pull it every direction possible, but it makes sense that he'd have modified his armor at least once in all the time since Aiden had seen him, and while it doesn't surprise Aiden that it looks like Lukas hasn't gotten a good night's rest in a week, he's never been like that when Aiden's dreaming. Even in his nightmares, Lukas has always just been angry, not tired.

It's real _—_ _Lukas_ is real.

The world starts to tilt before Lukas shifts, rubbing the back of his neck while he clears his throat, and Aiden finally relaxes his grip on the handle.

"Mind if I come in?"

Words are a little hard to remember, and Aiden stammers and stumbles over them like he's not quite used to speaking yet. Still, he holds the door open well enough, despite the wind, as he steps back, and the grin that's been dying to break through is the easiest thing in the world to show.

"Not at all."


	284. Lazy (Ivor/Soren)

Living in a city, there's only so long anyone, even people living in the center of a more protected and insulated building, can sleep in. To say nothing of the constant traffic, horses and travelers coming in and out at almost all times, the early bustle of the market easily beats any birdsong or alarm clock.

Though, to be fair, some manage it better than others.

A person who spent years living alone in the End, for example, surrounded by silence that borders on eerie at the best of times in a place where time means nothing and sleep seems utterly useless, is a lighter sleeper than one that's spent years travelling from place to place, more often than not sleeping in the thick of some sort of crowded area, whether it was behind some building or in it.

Of course, Ivor values his sleep more than Soren does. He's always been the more sensible one.

Ivor might like it more than most people they know, really. If he could hibernate, there's no doubt in Soren's mind that he gladly would, and it _does_ feel like a good morning to at least give it a try.

The bed is, to put it lightly, warm, far warmer than the rest of the room could possibly be, and the nearly obscene number of blankets, just as soft and far fluffier than the mattress, make a tempting cocoon. He imagines the cuddling helps too, his arms wrapped around Ivor and Ivor holding onto him just as tightly. His body aches, stiffly protesting the mere idea of moving, and staying still is far too tempting for far too many reasons.

The blankets are thick, to be sure, but they don't entirely block out the sunlight trickling in through the large windows, bright enough to let him know it's well past dawn. The noise outside isn't that loud, a dull roar at best, but it's enough to remind him that the rest of the world is waking up and that there are places for Soren to be, builds for him to design and work on.

Good sleep, even if it's not long in any sense, is good and it should be more than enough. He has far too many things left to do to try and make it up to Jesse, to pay back the new Order for even letting him stay here.

There's just one little snag to his admittedly reluctant plan to escape from the bed and to the probably freezing floor, beyond his eyes still being shut, and that's that Ivor seems as reluctant to let him go. As Soren shifts, stretching his arms and beginning to twist away from Ivor, he finds himself being tugged back into the thick of the blankets, Ivor practically buried under most of them and his grip still strong all the same as his fingers briefly dig into Soren's sides.

It might have something to do with the fact that Soren stayed up ridiculously late making and perfecting blueprints, and only managed to make it to the bed a little less than two hours ago, when it was already beginning to get light outside. Ivor's never liked his poor sleep schedule.

It may, of course, also have something to do with Soren being incredibly warm and comfortable and Ivor being bad at giving that up.

It doesn't really matter why, though, because it _is_ comfortable and Soren doesn't really want to get up for at least a few more hours, and if Ivor's going to help him make sure that doesn't happen, who's he to complain? It's far easier to keep his eyes closed and nuzzle Ivor.

His head feels like it's made of clay and cotton, and he can't even open his eyes, for Notch's sake. Whether or not he wants to get up, and he really doesn't, doesn't matter if he can't, never mind that Ivor's made it abundantly clear that he's been overruled.

Not that that stops him from kissing Ivor, holding it longer than he strictly needs to, one of his hands moving from Ivor's shoulder to his side as Soren squeezes him.

And Soren's never been good at limiting himself, so he's more than happy to follow it up with several more just as slow and gentle kisses.

He gets a mutter out of Ivor, something that sounds like it could be grumbled if it wasn't followed by several kisses of his own, starting at Soren's cheek and trailing down his neck, twisting again as he pulls back only to press his forehead to Soren's while he tugs the blankets up again, Soren's legs tangling with his.

Soren knows when he's been defeated, as gentle and comfortable a defeat as it is, and he gets the feeling both of them will be getting a few more hours of sleep.

They'll wake up in their own time, sooner or later, whether it's because of an emergency or important situation or just because one of them will end up leaving in search of breakfast or get woken up by the various people living in the same temple. Given what they've dealt with and been through before, any option seems just as likely as all the others.

The new Order can be loud at the best of times, still curious about everything and eager to see it all, but Soren knows good building when he sees it, and, with any luck, most of said noise will be as dulled as the hustle and bustle of the city.

Or, even better, they'll all go outside first before making noise, but it's a bit of a stretch to expect that much.

There's not much of him that likes sleeping when he could be working, even when his body feels ready to give up just to make him sleep, but, honestly, if anything'll get him to stay, it's that Ivor at least needs him here so he can be comfortable.

(Ivor spent years alone, hurt and bitter, and uncomfortable at the best of times because of Soren, because of his lies and what he did, and Soren's not going to take away any of his comfort now if he can help it. And he remembers the countless nights spent alone and tired with hardly any rest, and, as selfish as it is of him, he's going to enjoy every bit of this because it's good for both of them.)

It's a good sign when Ivor can focus on being comfortable.

And if it's the worst thing either of them have to worry about today, well, that's more than okay with him.


	285. Chocolate (Petra/Axel)

Some people don't do well with quiet. It's the sort of thing that gets in their head, makes them either feel way too uncomfortable or like they have to start talking and making noise to make up for it.

Axel's one of those people.

And for a bonfire, huge multicolored flames crackling and constantly moving in the wind and through the falling snow, it's awful quiet.

It's important to keep that first part in mind, because it's a bonfire, large enough that sometimes the tips stretch as high as the walls surrounding the temple, and automatically at least a little loud and awesome, but that doesn't mean it's as good as it could be.

Part of it might be the reason the flames are actually multicolored, shifting and changing between warmer reds and oranges and colder greens and blues. It's a neat light show, especially when they can all enjoy some hot chocolate while watching it.

Ivor, crazy or not, definitely has some good ideas now and then, and some cool potions to make the ideas work, and Axel hopes he can pull off the same trick the next time they have a fire.

Or, well, the same trick, but maybe a little louder.

And sure, okay, it's not totally quiet, not with the rest of his friends having their own conversations, not with the crackling of the bonfire or the way the wind winds through the trees and wraps around the walls to create a dull roar that sometimes whistles and howls, but it's nothing like exploding TNT or the louder, constant roar people screaming and yelling at each other makes.

They're out here to unwind, and that's part of why they're all wrapped in a dozen fuzzy layers, their armor still stashed back in their rooms, and the hot chocolate helps, but it still feels... off.

It's quiet to him.

It's almost the kind of quiet that's suffocating, and Axel's more than happy to latch onto something else to focus on, especially when that something else is Petra.

Who's been far too quiet too and doesn't seem to plan on moving any time soon, but still.

The bonfire's burning in what could be considered their huge backyard, everybody sitting around it, the circle of logs that work as makeshift seats almost as far away from the fire as they can get. But while everybody else is at least sort of close together, Petra's sitting on the opposite side, alone.

She's hunched over and nearly curled up, arms crossed over her middle and her hood yanked over enough to cover part of her face.

It doesn't hide how red her cheeks are, a little darker than everyone else's and probably the result of the wind blowing straight into her face, said wind also pressing the hood down over her eyes, or hide the tight, small frown she has. She's one of the only ones without any kind of scarf, despite being the one with the most thick and furry layers on overall, and Axel doesn't hesitate before going to grab a second mug of hot chocolate.

It's what friends do, right?

By the time he comes back, she doesn't look any happier, gloved fingers digging into her arms and her frown looking even tighter.

Petra doesn't always smile, but it's not usually a good sign when she frowns either.

Axel's been around her long enough to know a thoughtful frown when he sees one, and what she's got now isn't it. It's the kind of frown she gives when she's ready to snap at just about anybody, grumpy about someone or something.

All the more reason for him to try and cheer her up.

The snow crunches quietly under his feet, too soft and too fresh to be any louder, the sound stopping as Axel stops a bit to the side of the log, tugging down the bandanna so she can hear him. It's good for griefing, but there's a reason he almost never uses it around his friends. What can he say? He likes being understood.

"You’ll freeze to death if you sit on your own." It takes Petra a moment to look up at Axel, pulling the hood back enough to uncover her eyes. She squints up at him and against the wind, parts of her hair and her bangs escaping her hood enough to twist and get blown back, for another few moments before her expression relaxes, corners of her mouth turning up in a small smile.

"I'm fine." Despite the smile, her words and tone are short, tense, and scream just as loudly as anything else could that Petra doesn't care and won't care anytime soon.

The good news is that Axel is really good at noticing obvious hints and choosing to ignore them.

"Sure you are." He rolls his eyes as he sits down beside her, the log shifting slightly as he does, before he holds up the second drink, fingers wrapped tightly around the warm mug that somehow manages to keep steaming, his smile turning toothy. "I guess if you're not cold, I'll just have to take the extra cocoa I got."

"Hey!" Axel gets shoved, lightly, in the side as Petra laughs, her hand pressing slightly into his coat, and his grip tightens a second too late as her other hand swipes the second mug.

He quickly moves his now free hand to his chest, giving a mock wounded gasp as she sticks her tongue out at him and holds the drink closer to her chest. Even if he wanted the mug back, there’s no way he’s getting it now. Somehow, that really doesn’t bother him as Petra takes a drink, shoulders relaxing almost as soon as she does.

It’s not a lot, but he doesn’t miss the small, brief smile.

Axel’s hand drops back to his side as he smiles down into his mug, shifting the cup and making the hot chocolate swirl slowly.

"...thanks."

"No problem." He shrugs, tugging the bandanna down more to take a long drink from his mug, nearly emptying it. "Can't let this stuff go to waste."

Not that it would. Enough of them have a sweet tooth, Axel himself especially, and the weather's almost permanently stuck between cold and absolutely freezing during winter. Even if they don’t finish it all by the time the fire starts to die, the hot chocolate will be lucky to last past tomorrow.

Petra doesn't say anything as she nods, lifting the cup but stopping it just before it can reach her mouth as her eyes narrow slightly, still looking at Axel.

It probably shouldn't make him fidget, but it does, and there's not much he can do to change that.

"What?" His smile's lopsided, but he really doesn't know what's got her so interested, and, knowing Petra and knowing how bad he can be at reading her looks, it could be anything. "What is it?"

For a second, he thinks she didn't hear him, the wind choosing now to pick up and start making more noise, and then her smile gets warmer.

"You've got chocolate on your face."

Axel's already wiping his mouth off before she can finish the sentence. Sure enough, the back of his sleeve comes away smudged a light brown and he tries not to grimace.

Smooth.

He glances at Petra before quickly lowering his arm again, shoving his hand into his coat pocket.

"There. Fixed it."

"Hmm...." Petra hums as she tilts her head before grinning, quickly leaning forward. The next thing Axel knows, her lips are on his and he thinks smoke's coming out of his ears. The kiss doesn't last longer than a few seconds before she pulls away, licking her lips and still grinning. "Missed a spot."

His face feels like it's on fire in the best way possible and all he can do is hope that the grin he gives isn't as goofy as it feels.


	286. Dramatic (Jesse/Petra)

Even at her best, Jesse's always a bit of a goof. It's part of her charm, as odd as it is. Being the leader of a bunch of heroes hasn't made her any more serious, even if it's piled her down with more work than she should ever try to handle on her own.

Jesse's just as big a goof when she gets tried.

"If you love me, let me go."

She's not good at being dramatic on command, for better or worse, and the giggles ruin any effect the pleading could've had otherwise.

"No." There's a sigh and a grumble, but Petra's grip only gets tighter as she lets her head rest on one of the pillows. They have beds that can be ridiculously comfy, and it's about time this one got some proper use. "Jesse, just go to bed."

It's not the first time she's had to actually drag Jesse to bed, but she really hopes it's the last time. Jesse needs to take better care of herself, because Petra's not going to stop until she does.

"Petra." The giggling turns into a whine, accompanied weak tugging that wouldn't even do anything if Petra was asleep. She pulls Jesse closer with an arm anyway while her other hand tugs the big, fleecy blankets over them. They're fuzzier than any blankets have any right to be, and they're just as warm as she was hoping. "Please. I still have so much I need to do!"

Jesse might not be able to see how dark the bags under her eyes are, but Petra can.

"No, no you don't." Petra barely managed to slog through her own work, despite doing her best to get through the piles of paperwork as quickly as she could, and she knows Jesse fully intends on trying to go through the several gigantic piles on her own desk. Which, by the way, isn't happening. "That stuff isn't going anywhere. What you have to do is sleep, and I'm not letting you go until you get that."

"Petra." This time the tugging's a little stronger, the blankets shifting as Jesse tries to twist and turn, but Petra's willing to bet it's about the most Jesse can handle when she's this sleep deprived. "I need to _—_ "

There's that word again.

"Need? You don't need more work. You look for enough trouble as it is." Petra wraps her other arm around Jesse, her grip gentle but not loose enough for Jesse's shifting to do anything. "What you need is a vacation."

Jesse pauses, and the blankets stop rustling as Jesse looks back up at her and raises an eyebrow.

"What kind of vacation?"

Petra's aching to say one where Jesse can go on an adventure instead of losing her mind while trying to fill out more forms than there are people they've met, but after all that work? It's not the kind of vacation she needs. The ability to go somewhere where she could stop worrying and sleep would probably do her more good than anything else.

"One where you actually take a break for once."

Jesse might be the leader, but it's not as if everything'll explode if she relaxes for a few days. It might be a good chance for everyone else to work on making sure Jesse gets a more even cut of the paperwork, instead of the dragon's share.

"Sounds boring." Petra knows that tone too well and tries not to groan as Jesse grins. "Unless you take a vacation with me?"

She hates paperwork more than she's ever hated anything, and they've dealt with a lot of things that are easy to hate.

And she shouldn't be sleepy, not with how late missions and adventures can keep her up or how long they can be, but there's been a lull in monsters and chaos to take care of and the most she's been battling lately is paperwork, and that leaves her conveniently worn out by the time most people go to sleep.

Petra knows she's getting soft and she hates it, but she's way too tired to be able to do anything about that right now besides sleep.

"I think it's the only way I'd get you to actually take one."

"Yeah, pretty much." Jesse leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Petra's lips and pulling away before she has a chance to do anything about it. All the same, Petra's grip stays firm, because she didn't spawn yesterday and she knows better than to fall for something like that. It doesn't seem like Jesse really expected her to anyways, based on how her tone stays just as warm as she briefly nuzzles Petra. "What can I say? It's just not as much fun if I'm not with you."

Petra responds by tucking one of her hands under the pillow her head's on, pulling it closer before pressing a short kiss to Jesse's forehead.

"Then we'll see about taking a vacation after you get some sleep."

"Oh, come on. That's not fair." Jesse’s laugh leaks into her voice before she can finish speaking. "You're cheating!"

"No, I want you to go to bed."

And that in itself is a harder mission than any of the ones Petra's gone on in the past few months, but she likes a challenge.

She'd also like it if Jesse would just give in and actually go to sleep.

"Cheater." The pout itself isn't nearly as bad as the several kisses that follow it, Jesse smiling against her neck. Petra fidgets, one foot twitching before she squeezes Jesse again.

If anybody's being unfair here, it's not Petra.

There's a lot she wants to do with Jesse, a lot they haven't been able to do thanks to the paperwork that's pretty much kept them from doing everything but eat and breathe, and not for the first time Petra wishes she could give in and not be the responsible one.

But if she's not, Jesse'll stay up for even longer.

That's not happening if Petra has anything to say about it, which she does. Really, she has so much she could say about it that she's even partly surprised that she manages to keep it as short as she does.

"Jesse." Maybe she'd be willing, or more than willing, to put up with this if she wasn't half as tired as she is or if Jesse had actually gotten something close to sleep last night, but Petra knows she didn't and she's more than exhausted, so she just squeezes Jesse again before shutting her eyes. " _Sleep_."

Jesse's room isn't near as lived in as it should be, and that's probably because Jesse doesn't spend any time in here, the small table in the corner only slightly better than what had been a neatly made bed, a few papers and quills resting on the top of the wood. It's a nice room, though, the large windows letting in just enough moonlight and letting them see the ocean of stars.

It's the sort of night that's easy to fall asleep to, even when Jesse finally gives in and wraps her arms around Petra, occasionally kissing her and getting a few occasional kisses in return.

She's not sure how long they spend cuddling, drowsy and barely half-awake while the trees outside slowly and gently sway, the sound of the leaves rustling just loud enough for them to hear, but she knows it isn't too long before Jesse starts to softly snore and Petra fully relaxes.


	287. Issues

Everybody had issues.

And sometimes those issues weren't things they could control, sometimes those issues were things they needed help with, everyone made mistakes.

It was what made everyone human.

Lukas kept reminding himself that while he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying hard to keep his brow from furrowing and trying harder to make his nose ache more than his head.

"Aiden, you can't just go and pull things like that."

Finding a place where they could be alone during Endercon, one of the busiest times of the year for the town, was a little harder than he would've liked, but really Lukas had just had to tell Maya and Gill to go on without them before dodging through a few crowds and finding a more abandoned part of the street, located by the likewise abandoned shops.

It helped that they didn't have to deal with any prizes or fanfare after the competition was over, having come in second place this year despite _someone's_ best efforts.

It was hardly the first time Aiden had lashed out when he got angry, especially when it came to Jesse's friends.

Lukas never joined in on the insults, but he heard them all the same. He wasn't blind to the tension already there, to the rivalry Aiden usually tried to insert into everything, and he didn't like that as it was.

It wasn't supposed to be serious, though. Name calling was annoying, he got that, but he was sure it couldn't actually be all that damaging or dangerous.

Actually damaging someone's build, though, and releasing lava, lava that could've burned more than just some wool and could've seriously hurt some people in what was a fairly crowded area, without caring or bothering to fix it, just because people liked some other team's build more, was a little harder to brush off as anger issues.

Or at least, a little harder to excuse. Lukas didn't doubt, not for a second, that the same anger issues that always seemed to come back and bite Aiden at the worst of times were the reason he'd lashed out again.

But that didn't make it okay.

It didn't make it something Lukas could just ignore.

"Why not?" Aiden frowned as he became more interested in the smudge of dirt stuck in the groove between two bricks, attempting to move it with the tip of his shoe. "It's not like it even worked. Their build was fine, and they put the fire out. They still _won_ and everything."

That was a little harder to forgive. What he did was one thing, but Aiden needed to know why it was wrong. For both their sakes.

"Aiden..." Maybe Lukas would feel better if his fingers stopped nearly digging into his eyes and started rubbing his temples. His headache didn't seem to think it would, but he was more than happy to give it a shot anyways. "It's not about winning. That wasn't okay."

It was a bit harder to tell how well he was making his point when another set of fireworks shot off, coming from Jesse’s build, both of them briefly bathed blue and green under the bright light, but the way Aiden played with his hands before stuffing them in his pockets made it clear that Lukas’s words hadn’t been entirely drowned out.

That being said, heard didn’t mean listened to.

"Yeah, yeah..." The words were short and clipped, and Lukas wasn't sure how he expected this conversation to go, but this wasn't it and it seemed like he'd need to shift gears if he wanted to end this on any kind of positive note. "Look, I get it, okay? It's not like I can take it back or anything."

"...I know." He was acting like he'd gotten caught stealing cookies, not actively endangering people. "Promise me you won't do something like that again."

"Why do you care so much? They're just _—_ " And Lukas could almost see the effort it took Aiden not to insult them, not to call them losers or whatever else he had in mind, as Lukas raised an eyebrow. It was effort, it was something, even if it was towards what should've been the bare minimum. That was a good sign, minor as it was. "It's not like you care about them."

"Because it's something that could really get you hurt, or hurt the people around you." Lukas didn't leave any space between it and the next sentence, cutting off whatever Aiden was about to say. "Promise me."

His words were sharper than they should've been, something he realized a moment too late. They almost sounded angry, his irritation bleeding through them more than he ever should've let it, and that wasn't going to help anything.

Lukas never liked being angry.

He'd say he had some anger issues of his own, but he knew what he did when he got angry was nothing like what Aiden did. His anger issues weren't... they weren't like that. It made sense that people would do a few stupid things when they got angry, think a few especially nasty things, that was normal.

But Lukas couldn't imagine he'd ever try to burn somebody's build, or somebody, just because he was angry with them, especially not over something as stupid as a competition that hadn't even been judged yet.

"...I'll try." It was the closest thing to a promise Lukas was going to get, and he respected that. He hadn't been sure if he'd even be able to get that much, with the way Aiden's fingers were digging into his own arms and how his shoulders were hunched. "I've been trying."

"I know. Thanks." And Lukas might've been angry, it still might've gnawed at him in ways it wasn't going to stop soon, but Lukas knew how hard Aiden tried some days, and that was all he could really ask. Lukas let his shoulder slump, fingers curling before they relaxed, and smiled as the breeze picked up and started dragging leaves across the ground. "Come on, let's see if we can find Maya and Gill and go check out that slime booth."

Being mad at Aiden wouldn't make it any easier for him to control his emotions.

If Aiden wanted to go to a professional, or just get some help, he could always ask for it. That was his choice to make, not Lukas's. All Lukas could do was just be there for Aiden, something he, Maya, and Gill tried to do whenever they could, and try to make it easier for him to keep a grip on his temper.

After all, with any luck, this was the worst it would get, and the way Aiden's frown slowly twisted and relaxed into an almost relieved smile helped make it seem like a more realistic hope.

Now that they'd lost, Aiden would be able to see that it wasn't the end of the world and that he didn't have to react so strongly about it. Part of it would always be out of his control, but at least now he could see it didn't solve anything, that he didn't need to snap over something as dumb as a building competition. Lukas was sure they'd talk about it more after, when things wound down, but for now, he was more than happy to enjoy Endercon.


	288. Royalty

It's been a while since Gabriel's had, or taken, the time to visit the Order, and while the first few hours of training and catching up were beyond fun, he quickly finds himself in the backyard reading an old paperback, most of the pages faded and several of them having folded corners.

He's hardly complaining.

Few backyards are lucky enough to qualify as a miniature forest, and it's a good read, if a bit of a difficult one, the few passages written in Testificate doubly so.

It's not the sort of book he's read in a while, and he reminds himself to thank Olivia for the gift the next time he sees her. The occasional small and neatly written notes in the margins make it slightly more understandable, and for that alone he's more than grateful.

His surroundings don't hurt.

The constant flow of water that seems to be fed by the large lake the treasure hall and parts of the Order's temple stand on makes for a good river, water rushing over the smooth jigsaw of stones and rocks that make up the bottom of the dip, and the surrounding trees are both varied and thick enough, in size and in density, that, if it weren't for the large walls, he'd easily mistake it as being part of the woods that covered the base of the mountains.

It's more than he's earned, a warrior who doesn't feel like much of one for all the rebuilding and paperwork.

He kills monsters he comes across, and every time he travels he tries to help people by taking care of theirs, but that's common courtesy and that doesn't keep people from recognizing him as a liar, the only one without real accomplishments or a city to his name, the deadbeat of a liar who didn't run and that everyone knows isn't dead, and it doesn't stop the whispers or the looks that eat away at him, the ones he's earned.

That being said, he appreciates a break, and appreciates being able to hide from prying eyes behind the walls even more.

The sky is a mix of blue and white, the clouds forming a light fluffy blanket with a few empty patches to allow sunlight in. It's to his understanding that it hasn't rained in a few weeks, and, while the clouds hardly seem to be in any rush to darken or lead to nastier weather, he glances up after every page or so just to make sure.

(And the shame that feels like a second skin, the disappointment and anger he knows as well as he knows any of his other scars, gets harder and harder to ignore as it bubbles up each and every time he looks.

What kind of warrior, ready to tackle the fiercest of monsters and trickiest of obstacles, jumps at thunder and hides from lightning?)

After everything, it's more than kind of Jesse to let him visit, never mind stay as long as they agreed he could. Jesse seemed more than happy to let him stay as long as he wanted to, which made choosing the length of the visit that much less stressful, as much as Gabriel would rather not take advantage of Jesse's hospitality.

(There's a pride, embarrassed and undeserved and something that should be just as stinging as any blade, when he sees one of his posters hung up behind one of the Order’s treasures. He's quick to squash it back down, but not before smiling.)

There's no doubt that it's changed, since the last time he was here.

Given that he'd last visited when initial construction had just finished, it's entirely expected, but that doesn't keep him from noticing the differences and tweaks. All of the current order members seem like the types that could easily run a city if needed, Axel and Olivia already doing their bests and succeeding wonderfully, but Gabriel thinks Jesse's the right choice for this one.

Right now, it's stuck on the line between being a town and being a city, and judging by how much it still seems to be growing, Gabriel doesn't doubt it'll be a rather large city before too long.

It's an interesting place, still developing rapidly and different from any other city Gabriel's seen. It's certainly a change from Redstonia, the focus on redstone and engineering replaced by a mishmash of various interests, including but not limited to extremely creative and rather unrestricted building, fireworks, beacons, trading, all things green and leafy, and an almost inordinate number of animals.

Jesse makes a good leader, and everyone Gabriel's seen has seemed happy, or happy enough before they catch sight of him. He's not fond of drawing attention to himself if he can help it, not anymore, and that's part of why he's here instead of exploring.

As interesting a place as it seems, getting into any sort of fight, verbal or otherwise, isn't the best way to relax, and his curiosity isn't bad enough for him to discount all common sense.

Being relaxed doesn't keep him from hearing the slow footsteps as they get louder, though, more leisurely than sneaky and accompanied by an off-tune whistle that would entirely defeat the purpose of trying to stay quiet, footsteps that stay that way until stopping just beside him.

He doesn't have to look up to know who it is, because while the whistle, easily familiar, is a dead giveaway, the thick smell of smoke is even more so.

"Howdy stranger. Haven't seen you in a while." And while it's no surprise, the raspy voice is more than enough to get a smile out of Gabriel as he turns the page, one of his fingers absently tracing the jagged grooves in the leather cover.

In this case, a while's been since this time yesterday, perhaps the longest time in months the two of them haven't seen each other since they started rebuilding Redstonia.

"Hello, Magnus."

Really, Gabriel fully intends on finishing this chapter sometime today, but he loses his spot again when Magnus speaks.

"That's it?" He knows that tone, knows before he looks up that Magnus already has plenty of material planned and ready, just waiting for Gabriel to walk into the obvious trap.

This should be good.

"What?"

"Just 'Hello?'" The tone doesn't change, and if it wasn't as peaceful and as quiet as it is, Gabriel might've thought Magnus was just playing the distraction for larger prank. "No 'How are you?' or 'Nice to see you, your majesty?'"

Gabriel already has a response ready, more than used to Magnus's antics, but he's more than happy to discard it in favor of questioning the odd title.

"'Your majesty'? What are you..." And it's not the most notable memory, fuzzy and buried beneath unpleasantly confused, unpleasantly scared, and plainly unpleasant ones, but it resurfaces after a moment or two and, with what easy material it is, Gabriel almost wonders why it took Magnus this long to bring it back up. "...oh."

Then again, Magnus has always been good at biding his time when he needs to.

"Uh-huh." Magnus sits down, grin growing even wider and looking ready to split his face in two, and Gabriel pushes aside the, admittedly strong and admittedly childish, urge to tell him he should see someone about that before it gets worse.

He must've just finished a cigarette, because while Magnus doesn't seem to have a lit one on him, the scent gets stronger the closer he gets to Gabriel. It's not an unpleasant smell, familiar enough to be more comforting than anything and just another part of Magnus.

"I had just been told you were a king. How else was I supposed to react?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see another school of salmon, closer to the edge than the middle of the stream, taking their time swimming by, and for a few seconds he thinks it might be better for his pride if he focuses on them.

"Like you already knew who I was." The eye roll Gabriel wants to give is just as hard to hold back as the snort seems to be for Magnus. "Duh. Call me crazy, but I was pretty sure we'd known each other for years before then."

It's a bit of an understatement, in the way that a desert's a bit sandy, even if it had been quite a few years since they'd actually seen each other by the time Ivor created the Witherstorm.

The Order of the Stone had been around since before most, if not all other, people alive today in their world had spawned. It was part of what made the lie so easy to continue, so easy to treat as fact, as if the Order themselves believed it, because it eventually became all anybody knew and no one questioned what everybody else treated as fact.

Really, the Order's still around, just with Jesse's group taking up the name. They've done it far more justice than their predecessors ever did.

(Gabriel would be lying, if he said he didn't feel bad about branding them with the name, the title used by a group of frauds and liars, without even asking them about it. It was another selfish move, but he didn't want it to die with the cheaters that had started it all, and, even with the news that the Ender Dragon had never been killed, that they had cheated for almost everything, the title still meant something. Once upon a time, they had been idols to people like Jesse.

It's only fitting that Jesse's become a real idol for so many more people.)

"Very well. You're crazy." Gabriel may have to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter as Magnus briefly narrows his eyes, but that's his business. It certainly makes keeping his tone the same as it was before harder, but no less doable. Comedy is like anything else in that it's subjective, but Gabriel would like to think that the plain, almost innocent way he continues makes it far funnier than it would be if he lost his composure already and let Magnus win. "At the time, I had no idea who you were."

"Not my fault. Nice to know what you really think of me." Magnus shifts to the side, turning more so he can face Gabriel. It's one of his cheesier poses, his chest puffed out and his nose in the air as he spreads his hands out, but Gabriel's seen far worse. "True royalty, right here."

He can hardly blame Magnus for having fun, given all the rebuilding and healing. Being too serious for too long could be dangerous for anyone, especially a griefing king who cares as much for paperwork as an Enderman does for water.

A little bit of humor goes a long way.

"You're going to be in the river if you keep it up." Just as Gabriel can't be blamed for keeping Magnus in check. It's part of the fun, after all. "Your majesty."

Gabriel doesn't consider himself stoic, especially not when it comes to anything involving Magnus, but it's hard all the same to hold back the grin, the snickers even harder to hide, as Magnus's smile quickly flips into a pout.

"Aw, come on. You can't try and turn it around like that. How else am I supposed to tease you?"

It's really just too easy, Gabriel muses as he gently closes the book and sets it aside, no longer bothering to hide his grin.

"You might have to be creative." Much, much too easy. "If you can handle it, of course."

There's a pause where neither of them say anything, water rushing beside them and occasionally splashing against the odd uneven or jagged rock, the fish inside moving to and fro, switching between moving against the current and hanging by the sides, just like the trees sway in the next warm gust of wind, and then Magnus grins, teeth showing.

"Oh, I'll give you creative."

Gabriel's already laughing when Magnus tackles him.


	289. Role-model

After the Witherstorm, things don't exactly calm down.

Sure, no one's being sucked up by giant, world eating monsters anymore, at least not to the Order's knowledge, but there's so much rebuilding to do, so many confused and hurt people who need their time to heal and settle again.

Olivia's sure there's so much more to do than what she's already handling, even with most of the physical damage undone, but there's been a bit of a none too subtle shift since it was revealed the previous members of the Order cheated and lied to the world.

No one's complaining about the inventions Ellegaard designed and helped bring to their full potential, or all the work she did to create Redstonia and help it grow, but most people are understandably a little unhappy about her taking advantage of a lie in order to seem like a hero.

Olivia still isn't expecting it the first time somebody walks right by Ellegaard and asks her instead what the best way to rebuild a series of machines that had been destroyed by the Witherstorm's attack is.

Or the time she's asked instead of Ellegaard where a set of new homes should be built.

Really, even as smiling and accepting the paperwork gets easier, being asked for help when Ellegaard's nearby or ever right beside her, asked for instructions and advice on things a leader should take care of, still feels wrong. It feels worse when Calvin comes to her instead too.

But Ellegaard doesn't say anything, and Olivia's busy as it is without stirring up trouble, so she keeps smiling and answering questions.

It's nice, to be needed.

Then there's a lull, where activity stays where it always has but the amount of problems dips, and she starts noticing things she should've long before it ever came to this.

Like how any and all of Ellegaard's smiles seem thin, almost plastic and painted on, the ones she gives even when an invention works seeming more and more forced than they ever were.

What's worse is the look Ellegaard has on her face when people walk past her to talk to Olivia instead.

She's stopped flinching, and Olivia hates how she only notices Ellegaard was doing it when she stops, and maybe Ellegaard's not heartbroken, but she doesn't look like she's fairing much better.

The look's a mix of wounded and exhausted, eyes weary and mouth pulled into a small, thin line, like a minecart could hit her tomorrow or right now and she honestly just wouldn't care and nobody else probably would either.

It's been a while since Olivia's seen that look, what used to be a constant every time she used a mirror, but she recognizes it all the same.

Ellegaard starts to spend less and less time working with Olivia, leaving her and the laboratory before midnight most days, and as much as Olivia wants to think it's because she's actually been getting sleep, the dark, sunken circles under Ellegaard's eyes say differently, and she knows it's past the point of letting Ellegaard figure things out herself.

Whatever she thinks she has figured out isn't doing her, or her self-esteem, any good.

There's a little voice, in the back of her head, telling her it's what Ellegaard gets for lying to everyone, for putting Olivia down and belittling her, making her feel unwanted and useless before the Witherstorm was defeated. It's only fair Ellegaard pays the price.

She does her best to ignore it, just like she ignores how suspiciously like Axel the voice sounds.

Lies or not, this is Ellegaard. Lying about a dragon doesn't suddenly make anyone worse as an engineer, and while Olivia might not see Ellegaard as the invincible hero she used to seem like, there's no denying that she's an incredible inventor and the best mentor anyone could think to ask for.

Olivia became an engineer to fix other people's problems. And this?

It's pretty clear that this is a problem that needs fixing.

Olivia's boots, new enough that the leather still squeaks and creaks as she walks down the hall and covered in redstone that refuses to come off, glitter in the mix of lamplight and moonlight that comes in through the several large, uncovered windows that provide a nice view of almost all of Redstonia. The few torches that line the walls might as well be made of redstone, with how much the city lights outdo them, but they do their job all the same and Olivia appreciates not having to worry about running into any zombies or skeletons on her way to Ellegaard's room.

The upside, and downside, is that it's a problem Olivia's intimately familiar with. She hardly thinks she's the only one who's ever had it, but the similarities between how Olivia felt then and how Ellegaard acts now are uncanny and frightening in ways they shouldn't be.

She reaches up and grabs a part of her hair, twisting and turning it between her fingers as she stares at the floor tiles.

What would Olivia have wanted?

She knows everyone's different, and what would work for her might not work at all for Ellegaard, but right now it's the best place she has to start.

It's not as if she didn't appreciate the compliments, but nice words alone never made her failures feel any better, never made the flaws any harder to see and obsess over. What really helped, what really made the nice words mean anything, was the things Axel and Jesse would do. When her stuff malfunctioned or when Aiden's comments and insults hit a little too close to home, they helped her.

It was because they were her friends that she felt better when they let her know they cared, for better or worse. Some days, really most, back then she'd never believe they were honest when they told her how good her inventions were, how much better she was getting, but neither of them ever stopped letting her know that they cared about her, no matter how low she was feeling or how poorly she thought about herself.

Being involved, being included, and being cared about were probably the best things she could ask for, and that's exactly what they gave her.

Maybe it'll fail, and if it does she'll try something else, but it sounds like it's exactly what she needs to give Ellegaard.

Ellegaard's lab may be bigger than the one she had before the Witherstorm came and tore everything back to blocks and bits, but it's not as large as Olivia sometimes thinks it is, and she's surprised by how quickly she finds herself standing in front of Ellegaard's door.

It won't be the first time Olivia's been in there, and it's not as if it's intimidating. Ellegaard has always, to her understanding, spent more time tinkering than sleeping, and the room might be elegant, but it's small, a practical size for the amount of use it usually gets.

That doesn't mean knocking is any easier, even though Olivia's gotten better about it lately and shouldn't have to swallow the lump in her throat the way she does, or actively relax her shoulders to keep them from tensing.

Olivia's just... overreacting. She's sure Ellegaard's okay.

It'll be fine.

The rustling behind the door stops as soon as she knocks, knuckles making just enough sound to be heard as she taps them against the smooth dark wood, and after several moments, just when Olivia begins to think she might've imagined the sound in the first place, the door opens, and Olivia's focus is torn between Ellegaard and the bed behind her.

Again, it's a small room. The bed itself isn't all that far from the door, almost directly in front of it and just out of range of the door as it swings open.

And really, she's here for Ellegaard, her focus should all be on her, but it's the bed that sticks out, neatly made like it always is but with something on it this time.

There's open bag on her bed, several smile piles of neatly folded clothes and wrapped up supplies visible, an open bag that makes any chances of trying something else seem a lot smaller than they did a moment ago.

She and Ellegaard stare at each other for what feels like the longest pause of her life. Given what they've all been through, it's probably not, and she knows there'll be plenty of chances for it to have competition, but that doesn't keep it from dragging right now.

Olivia's better about not beating herself up, she has to be if she wants to get stuff done and keep her head up, but she really should've noticed sooner. She didn't think it was this bad.

Ellegaard's trying to block her view of the bed, and Olivia's not fond of all these observations and realizations being made only when Ellegaard stops trying, but it's a small room and a tall doorway and the bags under Ellegaard's eyes are a bit too dark, her shoulders a bit too slumped, for her to be able to do it.

That being said, being tired has never kept Ellegaard from being a genius, and the weak chuckle as she clasps her hands behind her back lets Olivia know that she's given up on hiding it, if she was ever really trying to hide it at all.

"Olivia." Good. Awkward for both of them, then. "What can I do for you?"

And if it wasn't for how urgent the situation seems, how drastic what could and couldn't happen is, maybe Olivia would play along. Maybe.

But she's pretty sure it's as urgent as it seems, and she doesn't bother dealing with formalities when she has a million new questions.

"You're leaving?" Like that one.

There's not much point in keeping up a charade that's see-through and made of wet paper, but Ellegaard gets credit for trying, glancing at the bag and her eyes widening, as if she just realized what had been left in the open.

"Oh, that _—_ I was just thinking I could probably use a trip."'

Olivia hopes Ellegaard doesn't really think she's that dumb, but she knows she didn't have much time to think up any excuse either. It doesn't look like she was planning on getting caught at all, given the lack of any notes lying around now and the lack of any sort of comments about any trips before this.

And Olivia understands that far more than maybe she should.

Not having to deal with people you feel like you're letting down is usually the easiest path to take.

The situation is quickly relabeled as needing immediate fixing while her mind tosses out any ideas that it was maybe just "not good", and Olivia finds that the lump in her throat is back as she tries to find something to say to that.

Because on the spot thinking's always been her strong suit, especially when Ellegaard's involved, right?

"...if it wasn't for you, I'd have never been an inventor."

Not the words she probably would've gone with if her mouth would just listen to her brain, but there's no taking them back now and they'll have to do.

"What?"

The ticking of the clock might be loud, just as noisy as the wind whistling outside, but she knows it isn't loud enough and that Ellegaard heard her perfectly well.

"...I didn't think I was good at anything. Nothing felt right." One of the corners of her mouth twists up as she chuckles, weak and short lived as it is. "If I didn't know about you, maybe I'd be a griefer. What you did _—_ your inventions are incredible. You know redstone better than anyone. Knowing what I could do, what you'd already done... inventing seemed like a way I could help people."

This isn't the sort of conversation to be having in a doorway, but Olivia won't shove her way in and Ellegaard's too busy staring at her, one of her hands gripping the door frame tightly.

"Olivia, as... flattering as that is, I'm sure any other inventor or engineer could've inspired you." Ellegaard smiles again and Olivia wonders how long it's been since Ellegaard's given a smile that doesn't twist in weird ways, doesn't shake or seem more like she's ready to collapse under her own emotions and thoughts. "Most people would still say the Order, who they thought we were, inspired them."

"No, I mean you." The words are sharper than they're meant to be, and Olivia doesn't wince the way she wants to before continuing with a calmer voice. "The Order was special, but you were my hero. Sure, I thought you'd defeated the Ender Dragon, but that was just one more thing that made you great. I always cared more about your inventions, the things you made and helped people create."

It's far too awkward for Olivia's liking, but if things were to her liking at all, she wouldn't have to say any of this in the first place.

So here they are, and it's equally awkward, so that's still something.

"Why are you telling me this?"

And that's a different kind of question than any of the ones she'd expect, if only because it can mean so many things and because Olivia has to hope she's reading Ellegaard's tone as accurately as she thinks she is.

"Because that's how other people see you too." Ellegaard raises an eyebrow before anything else, and Olivia takes it as the cue it is to continue before Ellegaard can point out any issues with the statement. "Not everybody, but definitely most of the people who live here."

After all, Ellegaard hasn't been officially denounced as the leader of Redstonia or anything. No one would suggest something so drastic, not any of the inventors here, and while her reputation's certainly suffered, there's no replacing her experience or her knowledge and everyone knows it.

Everyone except for Ellegaard.

"Maybe I'm an inspiration, but I'm not what they want in a leader. I'm not what they need." And there are so many ways Ellegaard could say it, so many ways that Olivia expects and wholly understands, but as obvious as it might be, accepting isn't what Olivia's expecting. "They've already chosen you."

She says it like a fact, like it's set in stone and can't be changed.

"They only take me seriously because you do." So Olivia matches her tone, not for show but because she wholly believes what she says. She knows it wouldn't be this simple if Ellegaard didn't seem to trust her, if Ellegaard continued to patronize her or told people she wasn't a decent engineer.

"I never meant to try and take your city from you, and I definitely didn't want to replace you or anything. I don't think that's what anyone wants. I mean, I can't try and make you stay and I don't want to force anything, but you're needed. We need you. _I_ need you. I have no idea what I'm doing and if you weren't here, I know it'd be a lot worse. We could keep working together and that way, everybody wins."

It's the sort of speech that's far better suited to someone like Jesse, but Jesse isn't here and Olivia knows when she has to do things herself, as poorly as she might do them or as much as someone else could do them better.

It helps that she's not sure if Ellegaard's quiet because she's thinking or because she's trying not to laugh.

Olivia hardly notices the crow landing on the balcony at the end of the hall, too busy holding her breath and trying not to let it show as the silence stretches on and as she tries not to focus too much on the way Ellegaard's hands twitch before she sighs.

"...I'll consider it. Thank you."


	290. Scarring (Lukas/Olivia)

Lukas will be the first to admit that he cares about his appearance more than most people do. He's not going to spend hours every day in front of a mirror just so he can deny it.

So it makes sense that the scars should bother him. To a point, they do.

They ran into more than enough danger when hopping from portal to portal, and while there were just as many nice worlds as there were hostile ones, the hostile ones left more visible marks, several pale nicks trailing one of his ears, more than a few jagged lines scattered on his chest and arms, and one of his ankles blotchy and speckled pink with burn scars from the fire world alone. It's more than he ever thought he'd get, back when the worst danger was building with something a little too sharp.

But it's not enough. There are so many more scars that should be there, so much more that can't be traced or seen or blamed for aches and pains.

And it bothers him so much more than it should.

To a point, just lying in bed, accepting that they're home and trying to catch up on weeks and weeks of missed sleep makes it easier to not think about while he drifts between being half awake and entirely asleep.

The thing about just sleeping and eating, though, is that it isn't very productive, as much as it feels like they could use a few lazy months to recover. And while Olivia doesn't seem to blame him, she only entered the portals towards the end, against her will. Frustrating and terrifying, but not enough to keep her from getting restless after a few days of cuddling and no tinkering.

The only thing worse than the feeling of scars that aren't where they should be is an empty bed, and the least Lukas can do is play the role of company while she messes around in her workshop.

It's not as big as the one in Redstonia, but it's not like anyone in the Order would let her have anything less than the best they can offer.

Olivia's a genius, after all.

A genius who knows him too well and asked him what the problem was not five minutes after she'd started working.

Lukas could keep quiet. He could say he was tired and go back to bed. But he didn't, because what he's sick and tired of is staying quiet about something that feels like it's either crushing him or starting to eat him alive, and Olivia's too smart to believe that.

She likes fixing problems, and he'd say this counts as a pretty big one.

So he tells her. He tells her about each and every injury, each and every time he should’ve been left much more scarred, or worse, and wasn’t.

On the bright side, he hasn't had to let her know about his arm.

The downside is that he doesn't have to. It's the first thing she picked up on. There's not a lot that slips by Olivia, even when she's sleep deprived and overworked, and the way his fingers twitch whenever something even just taps his arm or how tender his arm tends to be in general aren't the lucky few details that do.

And she can easily piece the clues together on her own and get to the answer, he already knows she's figured out that something healed wrong, something didn't get a potion when it should've because of Ivor's limited supplies and didn't have time to heal thanks to the chaos of jumping from world to world, from enemy to enemy, but she deserves an answer.

She knows about the arm, but it’s more than therapeutic, in a way that hurts and stings, to talk about how it’s Aiden’s fault.

And it's something Lukas has been dying to talk about, what hurts and how they happened, which he figures she knows too, and maybe he doesn't deserve a chance to talk about it, but he has one and he wants it.

"Here?" It's why she prods the back of his head lightly, fingers tracing the place where he knows the chip was planted and where there somehow aren't any scars or marks. She presses a little too hard, not enough for it to ever hurt anywhere else and just enough for him to stiffen, inhaling sharply through his teeth as he tries not to jerk forward, fingers curling around the metal frame of the cot.

He reminds himself, as he tries not to bite his tongue, to get Olivia a more comfortable cot later.

" _Ah—_  y-yeah, that's it." She pulls back, and the pain dulls, quick enough that it’ll stop in the next minute but slow enough to let him know it’s still there, that it’ll always be there.

Olivia shakes her head as she wipes her hands off with a rag.

"PAMA sounds pretty incredible. You're lucky any of you guys survived that." He almost says that they always survive, that their luck hasn't run out yet, before his brain catches up and tells him to stuff it because he's wrong, because it's wrong and that's part of the issue.

Being crushed alive doesn't leave any scars, not visible ones, and maybe that's the worst pain of all.

"No kidding."

Because he's whole again, he looks fine, no one would ever know, there's no real way to tell, not like there is with the giant scar Petra has down her stomach, thick and jagged and more than telling, and it's just enough to make him think he's really okay.

But no scars on his skin doesn't mean no pain.

(It just means that the nightmares are all the worse, because there's no way for him to justify it to himself, no way for him to know that he really went through it except for the sickening memories and the phantom flashes of pain that feel too real that he sometimes gets when he should be sleeping and thoughts that make him want to hurl if he spends more than a second on any of them.)

"So... can I get you something?" Olivia smiles at him as she places the rag, sparkling in the lamplight in the places that aren't dabbed with oil, on the clearest spot of the worktable, right beside her gloves. "Like a chance to take a break?"

It's an easy out. He doesn't know how long it'll last, but he'll take it.

"Something like that."

(Mind control is weird, terrifying in its own ways, and thinking about it makes his head hurt, and his arm aches and acts up on random days and he's lucky he can write with both hands, but neither of those are anything close to actually dying.

Too cold, too suffocating, too everything and nothing at once.)

"Good. No more adventures for you. Not for the next month." And he's spent days doing nothing but lying in bed, but that might just be the most tempting idea he's heard since they've gotten back.

"You're spoiling me." He chuckles, leaning back and ignoring the way his body aches all over, the protests from his arm and his back and his head.

(His eyes are burning.)

"Funny. I don't like the idea of you getting hurt." Olivia rolls her eyes, fingers toying with a lock of her hair as she raises an eyebrow, her expression slowly melting into something softer as the machine behind her beeps again. "Are you okay?"

So much for the easy out.

He could lie.

He could look her in the eye, tell her he's more than fine now, that he feels good as new.

"Do you want the truth, or an answer that'll make you happy?"

"Truth."

And he could laugh, he could smile and say he's fine, that he was only joking, but she'll see right through it anyway and he's not in the mood to try lying the first place.

"...no."

"How can I help?"

"Just..." He refuses to cry, refuses to give in now, so he swallows the lump in his throat and focuses on how he’s here, surrounded by whirring, beeping machines and Olivia, how he’s safe and how there’s no reason to get upset, even if there is. "Just stay here. Just keep talking to me."

He knows Olivia better than to believe she pities him, but for a moment, that’s all he can think when he sees the sad, soft smile, so close to being a frown and nothing at all.

"I can handle that." Olivia picks up the wrench that she set on the floor, instead putting it down on the workbench, next to a stack of blueprints he knows she’s been itching to work on and has barely begun to glance over. "We can go back to bed, if you want. I can finish this up later."

Lukas just smiles as he laces his fingers together and places them behind his head, low enough to not brush or touch where a redstone chip used to be, and rests them against the wall, ignoring the way his eyes and throat burn.

"Take your time. I can wait."


	291. Descent

Maya feels something catch in her throat.

It might be a scream she chokes back before it can escape, the lump she can't seem to get rid of, a sob, or some kind of combination of the three.

It's hard to tell.

It's hard to think.

And maybe it's because she's numb.

She's been numb for a while, since the Witherstorm spat her back out and everything went back to normal, only for Lukas to be nowhere to be found and Aiden muttering something about his shiny new friends.

She's been numb since Aiden started raising his voice at random and yelling at her and Gill whenever the wind blows.

But there's a difference between that and what she feels now, something clawing from inside her chest and trying to work its way to her throat, out her eyes, and she's pretty sure her heart's somewhere in her boots because it feels like wherever it is, it plummeted and it plummeted hard.

This isn't how it was supposed to go. Things have gone too far, too wrong, this isn't what any of them wanted.

She takes one shaky breath, still smiling and knowing no one else notices the way her hands are shaking because they're all too focused on the ledge Lukas and Jesse were standing on a few seconds ago and how could they not stare there, stare at Aiden, Aiden who takes a second to stare at the void like he can't believe what he's just done.

One, two, three...

She takes another shaky breath before swallowing.

Why's she so surprised? Aiden's always acted before thinking, and there's no reason for now to be any different.

It's okay.

It has to be.

It'll all be okay.

Well, no, it won't. Of course it won't, because Lukas was just kicked into the void by Aiden and there's no way for anyone to go home and _Lukas is dead_ , but since when has everything going to shit ever stopped them?

She's followed Aiden this far.

(Isn't that funny, she asks herself as she stares blankly out at the clouds, that she's clinging to loyalty when someone who used to be one of her best friends is falling to his death right now, doomed to die slowly and painfully unless he's saved by a heart attack or the shock gets to him first?

But Lukas was never supposed to go off the edge. He's supposed to be safe _—_ locked up until they could have a chance to talk, but safe.

Maybe Lukas would never have forgiven them, not really, for what they planned to do to Sky City, to Jesse and the others, but they'd be able to give him everything he'd ever want. They'd win him back, and he's the one who left them in the first place anyways, so he wouldn't have any real room to complain.)

And at this point, there's no turning back.

Judging by the glint in his eye, and maybe she's looking too much into it because unhinged is unhinged and Aiden seems even more unhinged now than he has in the past few weeks, when she and Gill are told to use the weird eggs, Aiden's not planning on sticking to any part of the original idea.

Including staying alive for much longer.

* * *

Gill's never had any serious issues with his temper, or anger issues. Definitely nothing like Aiden and Lukas have, as much as he knows he can't act like he's perfect either. Even Maya's better at lashing out, at taking her emotions and doing something with them, making them into something sharp and stinging and nasty.

But he wants to be angry.

He guesses he is.

He's just not sure who he's furious at, and the cold stinging in his chest, between his heart and his lungs and sharp like a dagger, just eggs him on to move faster, sooner, but to what?

Lukas is falling.

Lukas is gone.

And Aiden's the one who did it.

Aiden, who misses Lukas as much as they do and maybe even more, who's only been getting nastier and louder with each and every day, muttering and grumbling more about the Order, the people that saved the world and stole Lukas from them, angrier and meaner because Lukas isn't around and Lukas was always the best at calming him down.

And it just doesn’t add up, no matter how frantically his mind mashes the facts together.

All of this, the stealing, the lying, the fighting, the yelling at each other and following Aiden while he just deteriorates in front of them, was for Lukas.

Which means it's been for nothing, now.

Gill's not really thinking before he starts moving, acting on the few orders Aiden spits out before even listening to them, throwing the remainder of Jesse's friends out of the palace like it's clockwork, and Gill doesn't think he stops stewing in his own head and starts listening until he's handed an armful of multicolored, spotted eggs.

The first one, thrown by Maya, lands near the center of the city with a sickening crack, and Gill's not sure which of them are more surprised when a blaze flies out, hovering above a crowd of terrified people.

It shimmers against the iron and gold that make up the city, not stopped in the slightest by how dark the clouds are starting to look, and the fireballs it throws glow and glimmer just as much before they hit the ground.

And that's when it becomes real chaos, when the world around them becomes just as crazy and unorganized and confused as everything in his head is.

That's when the last piece of the puzzle snaps into place and it makes a lot more sense.

They're dooming themselves and everyone around them.

And there's no portal here, not in the city, not that any of them have seen or heard of from anyone, including the Founder, who's _—_ who _was_ so surprised by visitors, something she'd have gotten before or at least expected if she had a portal, so there's no way they're going home, and Lukas is dead anyway.

What's there left to do?

So he grins and keeps throwing, because if Aiden's allowed to lose his mind and go nuts, they might as well too.

Really, what choice do they have?


	292. Tailor

Petra's never met a tailor that she's liked.

She doesn't think she ever will.

People who go to tailors are people with more on their hands than they know what to do with, people who are too lazy to fit their own clothes or just go with whatever they can buy from a stall. Tailors, in turn, are snooty, putting their noses where they don't belong and getting too close for any sane person's comfort.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, they always like to make comments.

Yeah, sure, people like passing the time and small talk's one way to do that, especially when said people are trapped standing uncomfortably close to each other for too long, but some comments are pretty to the point and pretty clear and a little too sharp to just be small talk.

She also doesn't like that the Order has a tailor, but they do and at least having just one keeps gossip and rumors down to a minimum.

It's not like he's not a nice guy, a little on the older side and more than good at what he does, but it's the principle of the thing and she's more than expecting the exasperated sigh he gives when he sees the suit she's carrying.

"You’ve gained even more weight, haven’t you?"

And it's not biting, by any means, just tired and like he doesn't expect any answer at all because he already knows, and she might not like it but it's fair and he's right.

"That obvious?"

"Your shirt looks a bit... confining." She doesn't look down at herself, even if she can't help but lightly tug at one of the short sleeves. It's one of her smaller shirts, because it fit her well enough before, even if not as well as her baggier clothes did, and it's just been that sort of day where she wants to rip out her hair and scream at something. "I was hoping the suit would last you a little more than just a month."

Petra doesn't wince at the tone.

"Yeah, me too."

She wants to, wants to cringe and maybe just walk right back out the door, but it's not like she doesn't get it. She'd probably be pretty tired, never mind annoyed, if somebody kept undoing all her hard work just because they couldn't say no to a few sweets or extra helpings or exercise any self-control befitting the hero of any world, never mind multiple ones.

'Even more'.

It's not the first time they've gone through this routine, but she really hopes it'll be the last. It's not like she even wears or needs the suit all that often as it is, but some genius decided that another event in the Order's honor was needed for some reason, and Petra would like to be able to wear the damn suit without everything feeling tight. If she comes in again, it'll be for a new suit altogether.

The less she thinks about the trouble she had trying to get it on before giving in, a nice long look in the mirror showing her everything wrong with what she was doing trying to wear it and making punching the mirror seem pretty tempting, the better.

It would help if this wasn't becoming some kind of trend.

The occasional lighthearted teasing from the others about how she's going soft isn't supposed to apply so well to her middle too, or the rest of her body.

So maybe she'd been a little on the starving side before they became the Order. People who are well off don't fetch Wither Skulls for just one diamond, but she wasn't at the time and food was hardly her first priority when she had clients, monsters, and grumpy customers to juggle and deal with.

Putting on a little weight after they became heroes and when Petra suddenly had access to regular meals and a stocked pantry was expected.

That didn't means she liked having to get her clothes adjusted or having to get new ones, but at least she was healthy. She'd figured that would be the end of that, and tried to ignore the little nagging voice in the back of her head that it was too much, that she'd been fine before, that she was already getting pretty selfish for a warrior.

Her body apparently had other ideas.

There's nothing necessarily wrong with not being skinny. There's something inherently greedy about it, but that's her opinion and she'd definitely never say anything about it to anyone but her friends, and she'd only ever tease them a little about it.

But it's not right for her. Sure, she feels comfortable, but that's part of the problem. Being healthy was fine. This... this is a bit much.

(Part of her mind screams "Fat!" at her whenever she looks in a mirror, and that's not right either, but saying that she's chubby, even if that's what she is, healthy if a little soft around the edges, feels like downplaying it, making it okay, even when that's what it should be.)

She's still at a healthy weight, of course, but...

This is the third time she's had to go to the tailor, including the first refitting after her ribs stopped being as easy to count and after her collarbone stopped sticking out, and yes they have a tailor for a reason but it's so their new clothes will fit, not because their warrior's supposed to have trouble fitting into her clothes every other time she tries something else on.

The kicker really is that she's the warrior, that she's the one who has the most reason and most chances to look thin, and it's not like she hasn't been training just as hard as she always does because she has.

It also turns out, though, that Jesse's a really good cook and an even better baker, and she always seems to need a taste tester whenever Petra's around. Which is fair, and it's not like she forces Petra to eat anything, because she doesn't have to try with how tasty it all is, but it's a little harder to keep that in mind when the tailor puts down the clipboard to pick up his measuring tape.

(And Jesse might tell her it’s okay, that she’s wonderful the way she is, but Petra knows Jesse’s words won’t make Petra like the numbers the tailor’s going to write down any better.)

She's going to kill Jesse, later. She's not sure how yet, but she's sure she wants to do it.


	293. Terrified (Jesse/Axel/Olivia)

Jesse is used to being surrounded.

By trees, by monsters, by uncaring people, by people who care about nothing but the insults they have, by people who are kinder and nicer than the sort most people could ever hope to meet, by chaos, by adventures and paperwork and half a million other things.

And Jesse's a strong advocate for the idea that the most comfortably surrounded a person can be is when they're cuddling.

It's not as if there aren't plenty of chances, with how often everybody could use a little more sleep or just a shoulder to lean on, and it's not like it's any more unusual for Jesse to cuddle with Olivia and Axel.

Being scared's a pretty good, and common, reason to start cuddling too.

After everything, all the enemies they've gone against, the times they've nearly died and Jesse has, nightmares aren't low in supply. It could be argued that Axel and Olivia have had just as many nightmares about Jesse dying, thanks to getting to see it, if their more common nightmares and the muttered explanations they usually give are anything to go by.

This is probably the first time any of them have been scared because of a play, though.

Olivia's fingers dig, slightly, into Jesse's side as Jesse shifts, Olivia’s chin shifting to rest on Jesse's chest instead or Jesse's shoulder, and Jesse smiles into her hair while tugging the slightly crumpled top blankets back up. There's a small, wordless grumble from Axel as he yanks on the lower blankets, most of them tangled up between Olivia and Jesse's legs, before trying to pull both of them closer.

Jesse doesn't think they're all that scared anymore, but it's hard to be when they're curled up like this, and all the same, Jesse's not planning on getting up anytime soon.

It wouldn't do to make them cozy and comfortable before up and leaving them to their nightmares.

The theater that used to be here, in the town where Endercon used to be held, was run down at the best of times, the actors in it either trying too hard to make up for the bad equipment and scripts or not trying at all, the walls creaking whenever the wind blew and the roof constantly leaking.

Granted, Jesse doesn't think that before now, any of them had been to the newer theater, not to see the plays anyway, but it made sense to expect more of the same, if a little flashier and in a better maintained building.

It wasn't anything like that.

Unlike every other play they'd ever been to, it was well acted, well directed, and with some of the best props and settings Jesse’s ever seen in a play. The orchestra outdid themselves too, to top it all off, and Jesse doesn't know how long it's going to take to forget all the eerie and haunting tunes they played, though being snuggled up between a thousand fuzzy blankets and two wonderful people helps.

To add to it, it was entirely horror, also unlike every other play they'd seen.

So it wasn't any real surprise when they both entered Jesse's room, nearly at the same time, especially because they're equally stubborn and probably spent as long tossing and turning, trying not to admit they couldn't sleep, as the other did.

It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

Jesse's a bit on the shorter side, unfortunately, and there might've been a bit of trouble making sure Jesse could comfortably get an arm around each of them, but they managed and Jesse thinks everyone's comfortable enough, even with Jesse's limited arm length.

Not like that's a problem for Axel, who's got an arm stretched across Jesse so he can gently pull Olivia closer, his other arm under both of them so his hand can rest on Olivia’s shoulder, but Jesse's not as lucky. Not that Jesse really has any room, or any desire, to complain, being in the middle. If anything, Jesse's just happy that one of the perks of being a recognized hero is a big bed.

Otherwise they'd have to move to another room, because quite frankly, turning either or both of them away isn't an option.

They've done the same for Jesse before, when the weather gets rough, when there's nothing outside but raging, howling storms and nightmares waiting to happen. It's only fair to return the favor, and it's not like Jesse will ever say no to cuddling, especially not when it's with them.

And maybe it doesn't bother Jesse, but Jesse's never really been bothered by horror stories or plays before anyways, but it makes sense that it would scare them. The idea alone is creepy, if interesting and easy to screw up.

The play was about zombies turning all types of people into more zombies, instead of them coming back as monsters after they died any kind of death, a well-placed scratch or bite being enough to get the actors to start screaming. Not that anybody was actually bit by anything or anybody, but the makeup was pretty good, for fake blood.

(Jesse's heard authentic, terrified screams before, when people think they're going to die or they're being put through some kind of terrible pain, and to hand it to the actors, they were really close to being spot on.)

The only people who've really got that as a realistic, every day kind of reason to fear zombies, though, are villagers.

And people who are part villager, but there aren't many of those. Jesse has a feeling that's why Axel's here, why his grip on Jesse and Olivia's as tight as it is, like they might disappear at any second, but just a feeling isn't enough to assume anything.

Axel's part villager. Nobody knows how much, except for Axel, and Axel doesn't like it when people pry, so they don't.

And Olivia just doesn't like zombies, as easily as she can kill them now, and Jesse understands that just as much. She's heard plenty of screaming too, but a person being used to something doesn't always mean liking it or keeping it from messing with their mind, and nightmares are tricky that way.

(Or maybe seeing so much of it, the drawn out and constant horror and dread of a transformation process most of them don’t have to ever worry about, has her more concerned about Axel.

It’s definitely playing on Jesse’s mind, though Jesse’s also sure it’s not the only thing Olivia’s dealing with.)

Stuff like that can be like the music, can stick and keep a person from falling to sleep, and Jesse's just more than happy to hold them both, as well as Jesse can at least, until they do manage to get some sleep.

It’s not like they’re going anywhere.


	294. Skinny

They've all heard it.

"You’re so lucky that you’re so skinny! It must be so easy being you!"

Sometimes, it's a compliment, if a little backhanded and a little too naive for anybody's tastes, and other times, it's biting and sharp and given because somebody's pushed a little too much, because Aiden's teasing's gone too far or Maya's insults hit too close to home or Gill’s picked on somebody a bit too much for their size, but no matter how they hear it, or how it's said, they've all heard it before.

And they are, they are just so, so skinny, skinny enough that their ribs are easy to count and even easier to feel, bony enough that hugs are uncomfortable, cuddles are worse, and there are days and days where all of them are lightheaded or sick to their empty stomachs and just try to ignore it.

Lukas thinks Gill's more like him, doing it because the others do it, and Gill probably looks the healthiest out of all four of them, but that's just because he's got as much muscle as he does, enough to keep him from looking like a skeleton but not enough to hide that he's scarily thin too, that if he didn't have so much muscle he probably would be nothing but bones.

As for Maya and Aiden...

Aiden's the only one who spends more time in front of a mirror than Lukas. Lukas doesn't think it's just because of his looks, though, because if there's anything Aiden cares about more than his appearance it's having total control over his appearance, but he can't say for sure because Aiden doesn't like talking about it, and no one talks about it when he goes to the restroom right after eating, about how much damage he must be doing to his throat, about how sick he must make himself.

It's like how they don't talk about how they all know Maya hasn't eaten when she says she has, when they've been with her and they know she's skipping another meal, when there are days when he doesn't think she eats anything.

It's not healthy, it's not good, but they're the only friends he has and it's what they want. It makes them happy, and if he tries to take that away...

He brings it up, once. That maybe they could try eating normally, that everybody's ribs are sticking out too far, that they're going to get sicker and sicker, and for a few moments every worry he has pours out of his mouth.

There's a bit of silence.

And then there's a bit of awkward laughing, and then it's brushed off because of course they're fine, they're the best they could be, they actually have self-control and aren't overweight or fat, and Lukas really needs to come up with better jokes.

Lukas doesn't bring it up again.

He's scared about what might happen if they keep doing this to themselves, but he's more scared of being alone.

* * *

Maya hasn't heard it since the Blaze Rods tried to take over Sky City, but in hindsight, with how hated they are to begin with, it makes sense that she'd hear it again sooner or later.

And it's almost said like a compliment, not as stinging as most insults are, not quite friendly but almost.

"You’re so lucky that you’re so skinny! It must be so easy being you!"

Maya reminds herself that Gill's not here, he's waiting at home, so she's the only one who can stop her from strangling her fellow shopper.

She hasn't said anything, hasn't provoked anyone, just happened to be walking by with her own groceries, and she wishes it was surprising that that's enough for a random person to notice her and have to say something like everyone does.

But easy?

Easy being her, being here, being this skinny?

She's in a different world, in the only city known to exist with the only people known to live here, with no way of ever getting back home because she's a criminal, because after being given the bare minimum in jail and only barely being able to afford that afterwards, she's nothing but skin and bones and too weak to fight her way home, too weak to do much but work in the mines and get paid just enough for another day.

And maybe what they both make would be enough to support one person okay enough, but they're taking care of two and neither of them is going to let the other go hungry.

It's so tempting, so natural, to say she's already eaten, that she'll just sit with Gill while he eats, but they can't begin to have that luxury anymore, the ability to just eat food whenever they feel like it or the ability to ignore that food by pretending to have already eaten, and they both know it.

Gill would worry more, know what she was trying to do, would insist she ate all of the meal herself, and that would be counterproductive to everything and anything she's been aiming for since they got here.

At least when she pushes food around, makes it look like she's had more than she has, Gill just gives her a look and eats his meal. At least then, he knows she's eating, even if he knows she slipped him more, and he'll eat his own meal.

It's something, but it's anything but easy.

And Maya wants to grab her by the collar of her pretty little shirt, looking brand new and well cared for like she doesn't have to scrounge money and resources to pay for food and living at the expense of everything else, and punch her in her pretty little face, wants to kick her in the gut until she realizes how not very easy it's been for the most hated people in the world, but getting arrested would mean trouble for her, trouble for Gill, trouble they'd have to make up for in one way or another and she needs to get this food home now so they can have dinner.

So she just smiles and takes it as a compliment.


	295. Cushion

Ivor makes a good pillow.

That's Petra's defense, excuse, and reasoning, and she's sticking to it.

Petra huffs, twisting as she tries to pull away from Ivor, his grip on her not changing as she exhales sharply through her teeth.

Unsurprisingly, a better diet and a steady place to live means he's gained a fair bit of muscle to go with the weight, just enough to make fighting against him impossible if Petra doesn't want to wake the rest of the temple up, or have them both fall onto the ground.

It might be early, and the carpet might be nice and soft, but she's sure being crushed isn't on her list of things to do this morning.

It's really a shame that she doesn't have any pillows or any blankets to toss at him, she thinks as she lets her fingers lightly drum against the fuzzy couch cushion, but there wasn't much sense in dragging herself to her room to get a pillow when she had a perfectly capable, perfectly grumpy one right here.

Not that he asked her to use him as a pillow or anything, but it's his fault for being so comfortable in the first place.

When Petra came back to the temple last night after a long trip to meet with a ridiculously demanding client, already tired after running around all day in the snow and sleet, only to find Ivor already reading something or other on the couch, she'd expected the worst result from crashing next to him and using him as a pillow would be teasing, especially because she knows she's cuddly when she sleeps, not being held against her will.

He never made any promises and she hardly bothered to check before falling asleep, though.

She could get away from him, if she really wanted to, but that would probably involve fighting with him, and as tempting as it is to catch him off guard and fight dirty, because that's pretty much what he's started doing, she owes her temporary cushion a bit more than that.

Especially with it looking as early as it probably is, the dark blanket of clouds outside already making it hard for sunlight to get through and the thick, drawn curtains making it even harder. Just because she needs to get up doesn't mean he does, especially not with how late he was already up the night before and how much she knows he likes sleeping in now that he can.

Maybe she won't be this nice for much longer, but she's feeling guilty enough as it is now, and that's her hindering herself after already getting herself into this mess.

It's entirely her own fault.

She's also entirely going to kill Ivor if he doesn't let her go, because her own stomach is killing her and the restroom doesn't sound like a half bad idea right now, except that getting up's a bit of a problem when she's being held as tightly as she is.

If she was just tired instead of as hungry as she is and as desperate to get up as she is, she probably wouldn't mind ignoring the rattling of the windows and the way the wind whistles under the front doors in favor of getting some much needed sleep, but her body's never been that kind to her and it's not going to start now.

Petra's sure this her own fault too, to a point, payback for spoiling herself, because she's sure the last time she ate was a big lunch yesterday and her gut really shouldn't be complaining about it this early.

There'll be plenty of time to worry about that later, though, after her stomach stops trying to claw its way out of her body.

She tries to pull away from him again, one hand pushing against his shoulder. It doesn't get her anywhere, Ivor not relaxing his grip at all, but she knows there's no way he can still be sleeping.

Which means she can do something she's wanted to do from the start and make threats.

"Ivor, I'm going to sock you in the gut if you don't start moving." There might not be much room for her to pull back, but she won't have to for a hard enough punch, and it's not as if she wants to actually hurt him. Still, Petra's foot twitches as there's no response at all from Ivor, his breathing steady and no part of him, save for the equally steady rise and fall of his chest, moving. "There's a lot for me to punch."

She expects some kind of comment for that, at least, a comeback of some kind or him poking fun at some part of her in return, but she doesn't get one.

There's instead a pause where the wind outside howls louder, the branches outside swaying enough to brush against the window, before Ivor grumbles, turning slightly as the arm he has around her moves up slightly, hand grabbing her side just as tightly as it was before.

He might as well have twitched, the way Petra's fingers are now.

Oh, he's hilarious.

"Happy now?" And from the sound of it, never mind the too smug smirk on his face, he knows it.

"Ivor, come on." She'll give him some cookies or something later to make up for waking him up, but enough's enough and he really should've let go earlier if he just wanted a chance to fall back to sleep. "You've had your fun."

"Have I?"

"Ivor..." It's supposed to sound more threatening than it does, because she's seriously considering socking him and they both know it won't feel nice, but there's no mistaking the way it twists and stretches into a whine and Petra just does her best not to wince.

"Fine, fine. Have it your way." Ivor shifts, moving to rub one of his eyes as he sits up, leaning back against the couch and letting go of her in the process. Petra would like to try and think there's anything graceful about the way she gets up, but it's hard to imagine when she's leaping off the couch, already stretching her arms over her head when she stumbles on her feet. "Don't come crying to me the next time you don't sleep well."

And they could have their own friendly little argument here, it wouldn't be anything new, but there really is a reason Petra wanted to get up as badly as she did, so she just snorts before turning, moving as quickly towards the kitchen as she can while still being quiet.

"Never gonna happen."


	296. Confidence

It's somewhere between a festival and a time to mourn, a reminder of what and who they've lost and a time to celebrate of what they have, what they've survived.

No one's ever getting back the home they lost, or forgetting the memories they're stuck with, but today's about change, good and bad, for better and worse, about trading in fake heroes for real ones, for honoring lost friends and new ones. Most importantly, it’s about having fun in the face of all they’ve been through, in letting go and enjoying what they have.

Lukas smiles up at the dark sky as another set of fireworks go off, as loud and showy as the last bit with even more intricate designs as the colors overlap and fizzle before fading against the clouds.

New by all accounts maybe, and a little foreign to just about everyone for now, but he thinks Founding Day's a pretty good name for it.

It's not the first anniversary of the Witherstorm's defeat, the first celebration apparently having happened right before he came back and they all got stuck in the Portal network, but it is the first one where they've all agreed on the name.

It turns out Jesse's good at coming up with plans _and_ names.

Go figure.

Lukas pulls away from the thicker part of the crowd, moving over towards one of the currently closed stalls. It doesn't have as good a view, the awning of the building behind it and the entire building beside it blocking a good chunk of the display, but it's worth it for the personal space.

While everybody else is busy oohing and awwing over the explosions, or the light show coming from the south side of town, he risks taking a look down at himself, grimacing as he tries to smooth down the front of his jacket.

Wrinkles aren't the problem, of course. It's already as smooth as it could be, and probably as smooth as he could ever hope to get it, at least tonight.

There's a reason his jacket's zipped up, because as tight as he's worried it looks, his shirt feels more constricting, too tight in places in shouldn't be and too sharp a reminder that sooner or later, he really should just give in and get clothes a size larger.

It's not going to kill him, and definitely nowhere near as bad as his clothes are trying to right now, especially his jeans.

Really, a bigger problem might just be that he's refused to get more fitting clothes. He already knows he's not unhealthy, that his weight's fine, even if it makes him softer than he's used to being. There's just something about giving in that bothers him, even if it means he stays as uncomfortable as he is right now.

So he's put on some weight.

Enough that he’s regretting wearing these clothes and maybe even regretting just coming out at all when he could've stayed at the temple, enough that even sucking in his stomach doesn't help a whole lot, especially not with his lower body. Big deal. So what?

It's not like this is much of a surprise.

He just doesn't like it.

And maybe he's overindulged a bit, but it was far too easy to forget how good chocolate tasted after months of running from anything and everyone, and the last few months have been filled with less adventures and more general writing and paperwork. The end result hasn't been all that good for his body, or his clothes.

As fulfilling as it can be, writing all day isn't exactly the best exercise, especially not after he cut out training for the sake of being able to write more and attend book signings more regularly.

Lukas shakes his head, looking out at the crowd again.

He's just building it up in his head. He's fine, it's fine, it's not as tight as it feels, the only way people will notice he's bothered by it is if he keeps worrying, he's fine.

Lukas is just about to follow the road to check out one of the more interesting stalls, several bizarre firework-looking items sticking out of the front, when someone taps him on the shoulder. Both his shoulders tense more even as he turns his head, and it's hard to keep his smile when he sees who it is. Beacontown has plenty of journalists, and Lukas can't begin to act like he'd recognize half of them on a good day, but the notepad and quill, never mind the raised eyebrow and sharp glances at his clothes, make it clear that his luck's gone very wrong and that's exactly the type of person he's run into.

And Lukas can feel his mouth go dry as soon as he speaks.

"I don’t understand how you can just walk around like this. Those trousers are way too tight on you."

There's a sharp tug in his gut as Lukas glances down, swallowing as he looks back up, the next round of fireworks sounding muffled and quiet compared to the words repeating in his head, the briefly multicolored crowd easily ignored in favor of focusing on the continued pointed looks and disapproving glances his lack of a response, and his choice in clothes, gets.

"I..."

Thankfully, Lukas doesn't have to say anything, because the next second, Ivor is between them.

He has no idea how long Ivor's been watching, how long he's been standing close enough to listen, or how Lukas hasn't noticed him until now.

Right now, he doesn't really care.

"And I don't understand, or care, how or why you think it's any of your business." Ivor can be terrifying, at the right height where he can loom over people and with the sort of glare that looks like it could cut glass, and Lukas doesn't think he appreciates that aspect far enough. "Unless you'd like to start discussing poor taste in clothing?"

There's a halfhearted mumble of a response from the journalist as he steps back, hesitating before turning entirely and disappearing into the crowd as the next set of fireworks go off, followed by another string of loud cheers and whoops.

"Thanks."

"He had a point, you know. You _do_ look uncomfortable." Whatever defense Lukas had dies on his tongue as Ivor continues, and he shrugs lightly as he starts to rub the back of his neck.

"I'm fine."

Ivor doesn't so much as flinch at the loudest batch of fireworks yet, and he certainly doesn't jolt the way Lukas does. Lukas has no idea how, but he's realizing that's how he feels and pretty much the most he knows about a good deal of the things Ivor does.

"All this time and you haven't been able to buy clothes that fit you better?"

The toe of Lukas's shoe starts tracing one of the grooves in the stone bricks beneath them as he glances down again, hands shoved in his pockets and him keeping his stomach sucked in as well as he can. He might not seem like it, but he couldn't be more grateful for Axel's tendencies to go over the top with firework shows and his ability to keep everyone's attention.

He'll have to thank him later, when he doesn't feel like his face is on fire.

"I've been pushing it off, okay?" Judging by the raised eyebrow he gets, Ivor isn't impressed with the excuse, and Lukas just tries to fight the urge to smooth his jacket down again. "I think I have some better jeans back home, but I can just put one of those on when we get back home."

With how big an idiot he probably looks, he might end up just calling it a night sooner than later anyways.

"If you're sure." Ivor begins to turn, but stops before he can, lips twitching up in an all too familiar smirk. "While I could be mistaken, I thought the whole point of tonight was to have fun and relax. Unless I'm the only one Jesse's been trying to drill that into for the past few weeks?"

Lukas opens his mouth, no words coming out before it shuts again as he glances over to where he knows Jesse's watching the fireworks. Jesse, who's been working twice as hard as everybody else to make sure everyone has a good night. Jesse, who'd probably be more than a little disappointed if, after all that work, one of the others called it quits early.

The Jesse card is unfair, plain and simple, and Ivor knows it.

It's also working.

"...alright, alright, I'll be back in a few." Lukas glances at the temple, the beacons surrounding it lighting it up well, with little enough distance between them and it that even with all the crowds, getting there should only take a few minutes. His shoulders relax for what might be the first time all night while he smiles back at Ivor. "Really though, thanks."

He's entirely expecting the huff and eye roll he gets. It's probably the only thing involving Ivor that he expects, really.

"Keep thanking me and people will suspect I've done something to deserve it."


	297. Death

It's always been a possibility, even before they became heroes, even before they started throwing themselves at danger at every chance, whether they liked it or not. It shouldn't be a surprise, shouldn't be the shock that it is.

Even in a world where death is nothing, where it’s seen as normal and almost everyday and painful but temporary all the same, they feel it.

They're running down a hallway when it happens, everyone looking through the large tinted windows in order to focus on the twisted, unfair battle going on in the center of what's a barely dressed up arena, and with how far away they are, there's nothing to be heard but distant battle cries and the thudding of their own feet.

It's gorgeous building, all of it, well-polished and smooth where it should be, just as it is sharp in the places that make it most intimidating, and it leaves an even nastier taste that it belongs to monsters, that it was made by them.

And they ache, all of them, from deep inside their cores to the shaking of their hands and the pounding of their heads, and they're so tired of trying and trying and failing, of being held back and stopped, of being kept from going home, from seeing friends, from doing what they keep working so hard to try and do.

(Stuck, always stuck, stuck in cages, stuck running from world to world, stuck being at the mercy of their own creations gone horribly wrong, stuck in an endless cycle of death, mining, and terrified, desperate fighting.)

They're more than ready to end the constant interruptions, the constant search for what keeps being taken away.

That doesn't mean they don't see it, when Hadrian _—_ sneaky, twisted monster, his name hissed out by one of the two inventors as she looks ready to charge through the window and end him with her bare hands, fingers curling around empty air _—_ , barely visible inside a dirt pit, gets on his knees, that they don't see it when Jesse's attacked from behind, that they don't see items and blood floating to the ground as Jesse's body disappears.

Not being able to hear it, whatever’s said or pleaded or promise, however twisted the scream of pain is, doesn't keep them all from stumbling, losing the rhythm they had for a second that lasts an eternity.

 (There's respawn, of course, a thing that's almost normal for one, beyond normal for another, confusing and terrifying for more than half, and a tricky, now half-remembered thing hurriedly explained to the other two and _what do you mean you guys died_ , a thing that takes an extra second to remember.

But it still hurts.)

And it may not be permanent, death, here, but it's not all about Jesse being able to come back. They're beyond thrilled that it's not over, of course, that Jesse's somehow still alive despite going toe to toe with death itself, but they saw it happen, they saw Jesse die, and it was while Hadrian begged for mercy that he didn't deserve even before he pleaded in order to get Jesse killed.

They're a large group of people, really, and one of them hasn't even known any of the rest for more than a day or two, but there's definitely a reaction to that.

Nobody screams out or rushes to the windows to get a better look, but it's there, in the twitching of their fingers towards weapons they don't have, potions and bombs and swords they haven't had time to get back and won't if they want to get to Jesse soon, get to Jesse in time.

And that's why they start running again, carrying heavy armor and weapons and tools, because Jesse _will_ need this stuff, because they need to run as fast as they can now more than ever if they want to change things.

But no one stops thinking about what they saw.

Jesse's dead.

That's a thing that happened and there's no changing it.

It's hard to tell what they feel, only it isn't because it's so much and yet it's all so clear, all so easy and vibrant to feel and pick apart while they freeze and as their stomachs drop.

So much anger, so much fury, roaring, blazing, bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface and beyond desperate to come out, clawing every inch of the way to the surface, and it takes so much effort not to charge out onto the battlefield themselves, not to take that fury and use it against the liars _—_ _cheaters, murderers, scumbags, filthy sick bastards—_ , strike them down before they get so much as a chance to beg for mercy again.

It's lightning, building up with each and every flash and getting stronger, making them move faster, grit their teeth and run because Jesse needs them now more than ever, and that means so much, even to the ones who hardly know Jesse.

Jesse's always risked so much, always taken the brunt of the blow whenever possible, looking to be the human shield at every turn, and asked for very little in return.

Jesse's always just wanted to keep them safe, even and especially when it means Jesse has to pay the price for that safety.

Jesse is hope.

Jesse, the person who wants to save everyone here, despite it obviously being easier to try and sneak away themselves, despite it sounding safer than saving so many people. Because Jesse won't ever turn away from somebody who needs help, especially not this many people in this kind of twisted situation, dangerous and horrible and so many things no one should ever be forced through.

Jesse is so much to them, more than words can describe, a fact that thrums in the bones of them, of the people Jesse's fought beside and protected and has always been willing to die for, a fact that throbs and stings in the way only the truth can for the ex-gladiator who only yesterday would've had Jesse killed for a chance at getting home, the way that's all too crushing for Jesse's friends, who know all too well how far Jesse'll be willing to go every single time for them, the way it's odd and refreshing and horrible for the inventor Jesse has every right to hate and despise.

Which means there's only one way this can really end now, only one way they'll allow it to wrap up. There's only one fair ending, only one they'll fight tooth and nail for and do whatever they can to get.

After all, death doesn't mean anything anymore, besides more pain and more anger and more fuel for the raging fire.

They're all going home.

And Hadrian and Mevia are going to pay.


	298. Secrets (Jesse/Lukas)

It's a slow day at the market, each and every one of the few shoppers around more than taking their time as they stroll from stall to stall, staying shaded under the somewhat patchy and faded hanging tops and away from the blistering heat and maybe made all the more sluggish because of how ridiculously hot it is, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Olivia stretches her arms to the side, shoulders relaxing as she does.

After all, their town isn't a village, but it's not really a city either. It's not as if there's much of a reason to rush, given that it's midday and they aren't near any big event or holiday.

Endercon wrapped up over a month ago, and there won't be anything equally interesting for most of them until fall decides to wrap up too.

Still, the sooner they finish up shopping, the sooner Olivia can get some redstone wired up at Jesse's house.

Her own house is more than taken care of, and while Axel's let her fix some things up at his home, though she still refuses to build him a fireworks dispenser that can double as a TNT cannon, Jesse's is more than a little lack luster and when Jesse asked for a few upgrades, Olivia could hardly say no.

Of course, they do need to get to Jesse's home first before anybody can do anything to it, for better or worse.

Since it's such a slow day, really, they should be halfway back by now, and they probably would be if it wasn't for the Ocelots. A pointless rivalry might be just that, pointless, but it'd be so much easier to live and let live if Aiden could shut his mouth and stop constantly insulting them. It would be so much easier, really, if he and the rest of them could just figure out when to shut up.

But they haven't by now, and they probably won't any time soon, so here they are.

It started with a comment about Axel's size and seems to be wrapping up with some sort of discussion between Jesse and Lukas. It's a crazy hot day anyways, so it's not as if they're all crowded close or like anyone's really itching for a fight, which means while she and Axel are hanging out by a currently empty stall, they can't hear whatever the two of them are saying.

Not that Jesse can't take care of herself just fine, of course.

Jesse loves her banter about as much as she loves building, but she knows how much Olivia's been wanting to get this taken care of, never mind that Jesse's the one who asked in the first place even if it was just for Olivia's sake, and Olivia's sure she won't take too long.

And that all seems well and good until the two of them kiss.

The kiss itself isn't deep or long, but it's there, and both of them look as relaxed about it as anybody probably can be, before Jesse turns around and starts walking back to them, smiling like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

It's _casual_.

And that's absolutely far more jarring than any other kind of kiss could be, because a casual kiss like that more than implies that it's hardly the first.

A quick glance at Axel lets Olivia know that she’s not the only one seeing this, even if Axel definitely look ready to blame the heat wave they’ve been having.

At least Aiden's jaw looks like it could snap off at any moment and fall right onto the street, if Gill's doesn't first so that's something, but it's a bit hard to be properly smug about it when Olivia feels like she's about to do the same, eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she stares at Jesse, who's just smiling like nothing unusual happened as she walks away from the stall and over to them.

"You guys ready to go?"

She doesn’t seem smug or like she has any idea what she just did and that might be even worse, and her footsteps sound unusually clear as Olivia tries to form some sort of coherent sentence.

"Care to explain what _that_ was?"

Jesse raises an eyebrow and her voice is infuriatingly innocent and Olivia feels like this is all part of some joke, but she has no idea what the punchline is.

"A... kiss?"

"Right." Axel crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, and it feels good not to be the only skeptical one for once. "A kiss. You kissed him."

"And...?"

Jesse’s not dense. Jesse wouldn’t just kiss Lukas out of nowhere either, though, and not think anything of it.

"Why? You don't like Lukas!" Olivia gestures back to where the Ocelots have since disappeared from, no doubt to grill Lukas about the same thing. "Our rivalry with the Ocelots? His friends are total assholes?  You're always determined to beat him!"

And it’s almost like a light goes on, Jesse still smiling even as her eyes widen for a moment.

"Oh, that. Well, I mean, just because we're dating doesn't mean I don't want to kick his butt. Besides, it's not like he can exactly control what Aiden says _—_ Lukas is a lot nicer than the rest of them."

Olivia’s mouth shuts and she’s honestly grateful that Axel’s apparently just as in the dark about it as she is.

"Dating?"

* * *

 

Jesse'd be lying if she said she wasn't having some sort of fun with this, because this might be the highlight of the day.

The redstone part was fun too, but the rain, their first storm in almost a month, did kind of put them all on hold, which is why they’re here. With any luck, the rain won’t continue too late, because then the monsters are really going to be a pain and it probably won’t be safe enough for Olivia and Axel to get back home, but it’s nice to listen to and any kind of moisture after the recent dry, blistering weather is definitely appreciated.

And this way they can all share a late lunch while Olivia sorts out what’s left to do, which is nice, and Jesse can probably tease them some more.

She loves her friends, really she does, but she has no idea how or why they thought it'd be so obvious that she started dating. It's not like they spend all their time together, and while Jesse's willing to admit she can be sappy with Lukas, she knows there's a time and a place for that sort of thing, and it's not during a serious building competition.

She wasn't kidding. As much as she loves him, she gets the feeling she'll love kicking his butt for once just as much.

Being sappy's a better thing to do at the market when they're already flirting, and it's not as if their banter hasn't always been mostly flirting anyways. Maybe that's part of why dating him doesn't feel that much different, as nice as it is. Both of them had sort of been dating for a while without even realizing it.

She’d almost thought everyone else had figured it out before she and Lukas had, really. Reuben certainly didn’t seem surprised.

Jesse looks up from her plate, forkful of her baked potato going still as Olivia clears her throat.

"Hey, Jesse? No that's it's any of my business or anything, but..." Olivia trails off, fingers absently curling around part of her hair and the pouch of leftover redstone and metal giving a soft thunk as she sets it down on the table with her other hand. "...how long _have_ you guys been dating?"

"Oh, you know, not too long." Jesse shrugs before taking a bite of her lunch, letting her fingers tap against the table as she looks up at the ceiling and swallows, thinking back on it as much as she's listening to the light drumming of rain against the window. Absently, her other hand shifts, scratching behind Reuben's ear. He won't be getting any carrots, and certainly not any of her lunch, until later, but he's waiting patiently by her chair all the same. "Just... hmm, since the Endercon before the one we just had, I think?"

Actually, she and Lukas had more or less officially gotten together a few months before that Endercon, and that had been after a few casual "test" dates in the weeks that led up to that.

Still, Jesse decides, as Axel nearly chokes on his water, setting the glass aside as he begins coughing violently into his fist and Olivia starts thumping him on the back without looking away from the miraculously still dry blueprint, Jesse's allowed to keep some secrets and it might be better for everybody if she does.

That doesn't mean she has to hide her grin, though, so she doesn't even try. There may or may not also be some giggling.


	299. Seduction (Jesse/Olivia)

Jesse doesn't normally spend a lot of time in her room.

It leaves her with her own thoughts, thoughts about things she's done and stuff she's screwed up, never mind the things she didn't do in time and the things she's missing, which usually spells nothing but trouble, and being the Hero in Residence of Beacontown, as well as the leader of the Order of the Stone, means she doesn't have to worry about having nothing to do.

Usually.

But today is different, in the way that finding a poisonous potato in dinner is different.

Thoroughly unpleasant, understandably unexpected, but not as indescribably horrible as it could be. Jesse's been through and seen enough, as her thought are all too happy to remind her, like the things that have happened to her friends, to know that it could be so much worse than being alone.

Jesse twists a small, golden shard between her fingers before she sighs, letting her head rest against the pillow as she stares up at the ceiling. Petra had thought she'd like the odd little deformed bit of gold, and Jesse does, but there's only so long she can stare at it and think about all the ways the oranges and pinks of sunset, filtering through her window and past the gap in the curtains, reflect off of it without her mind drifting back to things she'd rather not think about or ever acknowledge.

There's only so long a person can keep it all locked up though, especially when they're alone and their mind's festering with a million little thoughts begging to be noticed and acknowledged.

Really, she should be happy. She's always one of the first people to burn out when dealing with their fans.

But being alone is different from being around friends, just like being around fans is different from being around people Jesse knows and trusts. It's not as if no one else is at the temple, but even the usual muffled sounds of Olivia working in her basement have gone silent.

Jesse would check, but Olivia can handle herself and she usually needs some space to relax after getting away from Redstonia.

Olivia doesn't panic or stress out as much as she used to, and Jesse's happy it's not the strain it used to be, but Jesse knows how tiring running a city can be, and Jesse at least doesn't have to worry about complicated redstone questions that she's expected to understand and answer.

That's why she has Olivia.

Jesse sets the chunk of gold down on her bedside table, absently nudging it away from the edge with a finger before picking up the manuscript Lukas sent her, flipping to a random page.

Her eyes more scan the page than read anything, not that it matters. She’s already written down and double checked all the notes she has for him, and she’s reread the thing more times than she can count.

At this point, it’s not much of a better distraction than staring at her wall, but it’s something.

The sun creeps lower and lower until Jesse’s fairly sure she’s just been rereading the same word for the past ten minutes, and only now noticing that “meticulous” doesn’t really seem like a real word when it’s been read a million times over.

Jesse also decides as she keeps staring at the page that that little detail’s not going to make it into her notes to Lukas.

She’s just about to give up, or flip to another page to repeat the same mind-numbing process all over again with another word, when there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by the person knocking not waiting for an answer before entering.

Not that there’s any real mystery about who it is, of course.

Almost no one’s home, and there’s only one person here who’d smell this strongly of smoke and redstone.

Something inside Jesse loosens, and for the first time all evening she doesn’t feel like a spring ready to snap back, because Olivia’s timing is fantastic and someone ought to tell her so.

Jesse resists the urge to leap out of bed and cling to her, because she's better than that and Olivia still looks pretty tired, but that doesn't keep her from grinning wide enough for her face to hurt as she looks up from the not-quite-a-book-yet.

Olivia’s not looking at her, not at first, too busy pulling off her gloves as she nudges the door shut with her side, but it’s not more than a few moments before she looks up and meets Jesse’s gaze. The warm smile doesn’t hide the bags under her eyes, and the even warmer look she’s giving doesn’t hide that said look’s also exhausted.

And yet, instead of crashing downstairs in her own bed like she probably should’ve, she decided to visit Jesse.

It hits Jesse again that Olivia's the best and that Jesse doesn't tell her that enough, as well as that Olivia’s habits can be as worrying self-destructive as Jesse’s own.

"Hey."

Olivia sets her gloves on the bedside table as she sits down by Jesse, wrapping an arm around her, her lips soft and dry as she kisses Jesse on the cheek.

"Hey." Jesse doesn’t think the kiss she gives in return is anywhere as nice, but she can try.

“Miss me?”

There’s nothing wrong with the two words by themselves. It’s the smile Olivia has as she says them, sly and small with her lips parting just enough for her teeth to show, that means Jesse has no choice but to kiss her, and she gladly does.

“Always.” She chuckles as Olivia leans into the next kiss, humming lightly as she does. "Okay, I'll bite. What are you up to?"

"I'm up to something?"

Even if Olivia’s grin didn’t give her away, the laughter in her voice that she’s not even trying to hide does.

Not that it keeps Jesse from relaxing against the bed as Olivia leans in more. It’s a much nicer, cozier bed, when there’s somebody else on it with her. To be fair, Jesse thinks she’d be just as happy on the floor as long as she was with Olivia.

"You're humming, and you don't hum unless you're up to something. Besides, you're never this happy after making the trip from Redstonia."

She's just had hot chocolate, probably with one on the big marshmallows they usually use for bonfires, and Jesse's not sure if she tastes it on her lips or smells it on her breath first, but whichever it is, it's great and it's just another thing Jesse loves.

It's so much better than the crushing silence, than the weight of her own actions and her thoughts slowly pressing down on her until she can't breathe, and Jesse owes Olivia so much for being in the same room and being her.

Never mind for kissing her too. That always helps.

"I can't be happy?"

It takes actual effort not to snort at that, and it’s a tie between being because of the horribly not-innocent tone Olivia uses and because of the hypocrisy of it.

"You get to be suspicious whenever _I'm_ happy." To be fair, usually Olivia has good reason to be, but now it’s Jesse’s turn and she’s not passing it up. She has a pretty good feeling she knows what it is too, but there’s nothing wrong with making sure. "Isn't it my turn?"

"Okay, okay, fair enough. Lukas is writing in his new house, Axel's at Boom Town, Petra said she shouldn't be back from her deal until the morning, Em's spending the night at Nell's, and Ivor and Harper are busy adventuring worlds away from here." It's at this point where Olivia's pretty much sitting on her and Jesse couldn't be happier about it. "Which means we have the rest of the evening all to ourselves if we want. No training, no last second adventures, nowhere to go and nowhere to be..."

"Sure that's not too much power for us?" Jesse presses a kiss to the thin, jagged scar that runs right over the corner of Olivia’s eyebrow.

"Somehow, I think we'll manage." She's been letting her hair grow out since deciding to stop putting it up, wonderfully soft and loose curls brushing against Jesse's neck and shoulders as Olivia leans down to kiss her, Olivia giving a light hum as she pulls her head up just enough for Jesse to see her smirk. "Of course, I _could_ get back to designing that invention I've been putting off, if you don't think there are any better ways we could spend our time."

Jesse would be worried about her actually considering it, but she has plenty of ideas and she knows that, even if she didn't, Olivia wouldn't leave.

What Olivia's been putting off is what invention to even start with.

She has over a dozen designs she's been tweaking on and off, and the fact that she hasn't chosen one yet makes it pretty clear it's not a serious threat. Jesse knows the last thing Olivia wants tonight is to end up yanking her hair out over how frustrated she can get at her own machines.

Besides, it's not like it could really be an idea Olivia would want to consider, not after she's already taken off her gloves and decided lying on top of Jesse's a better way to pass the time.

Jesse's not complaining about it, though, just like she's not complaining about the next several kisses.

"You know..." Jesse smiles as she slowly sits up, one of Olivia's arms wrapping around her waist as she does. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me."

"Seduce you?" Olivia raises an eyebrow before her expression relaxes again, smile growing as she shifts, moving her arm behind Jesse’s back and letting her hand rest on Jesse’s shoulder, fingers tapping lightly and getting dangerously close to Jesse’s neck. "I don't think I have to try. I'd say I already did."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm." Jesse doesn’t have to think all too hard about why her face is warm as Olivia’s fingers drifts to her hair, a lock brushing against her ear as Olivia twirls it. "Feeling properly seduced yet?"

"I don't know." Jesse grins into the kiss before it can finish, loosely wrapping her arms around Olivia shoulders, hands resting behind her neck. "Think you'll have to kiss me more before we can find out."

Olivia's always had kissable lips, but sometimes Jesse doesn't think she appreciates how good a kisser Olivia can be enough.

Of course, that's something they can both fix, and it sounds like they'll have plenty of time to try tonight. Jesse's not as good a kisser, but she makes up for it by being a good cuddler and that's something they could have a lot of fun with too.

Just being able to relax with each other's so much more fun than trying alone.

"Anything but that." Olivia rolls her eyes, but wraps her other arm and a leg around Jesse all the same as she kisses her back, fingers playing with the collar of Jesse's shirt as Olivia tilts her head and presses another short kiss to Jesse's neck.

Jesse's not sure how 'seduced' she's supposed to feel before it's enough, and it might be best if they just keep going until they're too sleepy or tired, but she certainly feels loved.


	300. Heroic

In the interest of self-preservation, Gill really needs to stop trying to be heroic. He's a villain, it's been established, he's screwed up and he's widely, and rightly, hated and he should know better than to try and help people.

He's never been all that good at self-preservation.

If there's a bright side, it's that the wall isn't any rougher, rough brick edges probably not giving him any more bruises or scrapes than it did last time even as half his face is pressed into it, the handcuffs feeling just as cold as before as they're slid around his wrists.

Gill doesn't fight back, not beyond what's expected.

He's struggling, but it's not to hurt, and the kicks and shoves are almost halfhearted. He's in enough trouble without actually harming a guard, and he knows well enough by now to know that arguing that he's innocent won't do anything more than egg the guards on.

It's not like this is the first time, even if the gathering crowd seems to think it is.

With how often it's happened, though, it might be the last time. There's only so many times he'll get arrested, reprimanded and punished and humiliated, before it's decided he's better off back in jail.

He's had this come back to bite him before, made a big enough scene scaring away some petty thief for the guards to come. And every time they do, the thief's nowhere to be found and everyone who's seen what happened just lets Gill get cuffed and taken away, sometimes outright saying he's the one who tried to rob another shopper. It's amazing he goes to the market at all anymore, but he can't leave everything to Maya and maybe he just wants to shop without getting arrested for once.

So, no, not his first time going through this.

But Notch it should be.

So he's just hopeful, so hopeful, that when they take him to the jail, they leave him there and move on with their usual plans instead of trying to throw Maya and Aiden in too, instead of trying to use this as an excuse to take care of the Blaze Rods in one go.

He's not expecting, not even beginning to dare to hope, that somebody here'll speak up for him, especially not the person he just helped.

But they do.

"Wait!" Gill almost doesn't recognize their voice, probably never heard it before today, especially not when it wasn't tense, panicky, and stuttered, but after a second or two of enjoying _not_ being pressed against the wall, it's easy to recognize the person whose bag he ended up getting back. "He _—_ he's not the one who tried to rob me _—_ he didn't do anything wrong."

There's still plenty of stuttering and stammering too, but it's a little hard to focus on something as small as that when he thinks his brain just broke and the crowd goes silent.

What.

And he can't blame the guards at all for reacting the same way, still holding his arms behind his back but freezing just like he does.

"...you don't have to defend him." Gill's not sure whose security it's for, but the grip on his arms gets tighter, the thick chain of the handcuffs pulled as taught as it can be, letting the metal around his wrists clink as they hit. "Whatever he's threatened, whatever he's told you, he's not going to be able to hurt you."

"I know. I'm not _—_ I mean, he didn't. He just chased them away before you got here."

What.

"...you're sure?" It's as clear and obvious as the guard can be that this is the last chance at ducking out.

"Yes." There's no way this is happening, but the following silence and the lack of him being dragged off to jail makes it pretty clear he's not the only one who heard it. "I _—_ I think I'd know the difference between the person who helped me and the one he took care of _—_ something he did before any of you could."

 _What_.

That's not how this is supposed to go.

It's not at all how it's gone the past few times, at least, and Gill knows his luck better than this. There's no way he's getting a break now.

But the guards do start uncuffing him, and as soon as he's free, they just... walk away. He knows they're new to everything that comes with being part of an actual city, knows he'll probably at least end up being questioned when they're reminded or figure out that they still need to write a report, but this hasn't ever happened before, not with him.

There's surreal and then there's reality breaking down on itself.

He doesn't have to stop staring after the guards to know that somebody, the person who spoke up for him and _why would anyone do that_ , hasn't moved. There's always an angle.

Something to hold over his head, maybe?

People are weird like that.

Like him.

Not that Maya's going to let him live down almost getting in trouble again like this, but he can't blame her and this time she won't even have to bite back thinly veiled insults at the guards.

Well.

She won't have to.

He knows her better than to think she won't.

Now that the entertainment's gone, the crowd slowly goes back to their shopping, most of them shooting him side glances or muttering under the breath as they push past, and the usual clutter and shuffle of a market, as inexperienced and new and sloppily run, if beautifully made, as this market is, returns while Gill finds himself staring at someone who keeps glancing away.

Not that he can fault them, he knows he's about boring a hole in their skull, but this doesn't make sense.

Why?

And how does he ask that without coming off as a completely ungrateful jerk?

But Gill knows how he looks, knows his beard's a little bushier and scruffier than it was back home, knows it's only because his clothes are baggy that people can't see his ribs, knows that even if it weren't for his terrible reputation and the things he's done, he's at least half a head taller than this person and even back in their world, even if he was in a city where nobody knew him, it wouldn't be hard to see him as intimidating, easy to pass off as dangerous or a threat, as easy to watch get dragged away and keep quiet about.

And they're not in some random city, this is someone who knows full well what he did and what he tried to do in Sky City, somebody he nearly killed, so _what the heck_?

He's always been so much better about words when it's all in his head, when he can iron out details and make sure he's using all the right words and that it all sounds nice, but when he speaks, well... he's not eloquent and he knows it, but sometimes he really gets the feeling he doesn't need any reminders.

"...hey, uh, thanks." Rubbing his neck only makes the scrapes on his hands sting more, and Gill doesn't know if he manages to hide the wince or not before shoving both his hands in his pockets. He doesn't think it's likely for anyone but Maya and Aiden to be concerned about him here, and he knows what kind of reputation he has, but this whole thing has been weird enough that he can almost believe the flash of concern on their face is genuine and not just because they're scared of Gill. "Why'd you do that?"

He doesn't need the reminder, but he still gets them, makes them all on his own and does this to himself, all the same. He also doesn't need his reputation to make him look bad; he's doing just fine on his own.

And he really wants to slam his head into the nearest brick wall, but he looks dumb enough as it is, so he can do that later.

"Because you helped me." It's so simple, so plain, and makes a ridiculous amount of sense he's come not to expect and not to trust. It probably shows too, based on the way they start fidgeting again. "I... really wasn't expecting that _—_ and, I mean, it's not like I'm okay with what you did to us up in Sky City, but... nobody else helped."

Nobody else ever has, and the guards are always too slow. They're too busy worrying about stray monsters to spare guards for thieves that may or may not be in the market.

Which, to be fair, makes sense, especially since a few of the more dangerous ones still fall down from the ruins of Sky City from time to time. Most of what the guards do makes sense, and as much as he doesn't like it, Gill can't even really blame them for taking him to jail as many times as they have _—_ nobody's ever defended Gill before that _wasn't_ Maya or Aiden.

He’s relating to the guards way too much today.

This is all still so weird, and he hasn't even given anything that could be considered a response, so he stares down at them for a few more seconds before his brain wakes up and he rolls his eyes.

"No kidding."

There's some more quick shifting as they look up at him, shrugging weakly as they cross their arms over their chest.

"...you're still one of the first criminals we've ever really had. Most of us still aren't used to fighting, or thieves, or really having much for other people to steal."

"Next time, kick 'em. They aren't all that good at fighting back yet." It occurs to him a second too late that a wide, toothy grin might not seem all too friendly or encouraging, but it's easier to just chuckle as he turns away and starts walking home.

"W-wait!" And he stops, and maybe he shouldn't but he does, already raising an eyebrow before he turns his head, before he sees the somewhat jumbled bags being held up to him. "These are yours."

Gill notices as he takes the bags that they have soft hands too, no callouses and with only one or two fresher looking red scars along their knuckles, scars they wouldn’t ever have if they were still up in Sky City, when he also remembers that's not what he should be focusing on and that staring dumbly isn't a good look for him.

He's happy he's not in jail, not stupid.

"...alright, what are you up to?" He knows mocking just as well as, if not better than, he knows kindness, and he knows which of the two to expect from nearly everybody in this world. "What do you want?"

"...nothing." He knows shifty too, knows how bad all of these people are at lying and almost anything involving trickery, but it sounds too plain, too genuine, to be real. That doesn't leave him with a lot of options, though. Any, really. "I don't think you'd want to come back today after what almost happened, though."

They're right about that.

"...uh-huh." Still, this time he gets to turn and walk away without being stopped.

Weird.

Just really, really weird.

But hey, he isn't in prison, he actually has what he wanted to get in the first place and already bought, which means dinner's back on and not behind bars again and Maya'll get something to eat, so he isn't complaining.

Even if he knows Maya's never going to believe this, already grinning as he imagines her reaction.


	301. Starving

After the Witherstorm, it took a little time to figure out how to act around Ivor.

Jesse suspected it took him just as long, if not longer, to figure out how to deal with living with all of them. They all only had to wonder about him, and he was surrounded not knowing and not sure who and how to trust.

Jesse almost didn’t think he had many plans about what he’d ever do after getting his revenge, and she still wasn’t sure.

And maybe two months wasn't really that much time, but it was enough for them to finish up major rebuilding and even go on a few tiny adventures of their own, and definitely enough time where Jesse was pretty sure they'd all be in some form of trouble if they didn't have Ivor himself there to help or his health potions.

It was enough time for Ivor to start eating with the rest of them, or at least in the dining room.

It was also enough time for him to not quite hide how surprised he was at the portions they all had, and in turn he had, and enough time for Jesse to worry about just how little he'd been getting when he was setting up and hiding out in his lab.

So maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise that after lunch, while the others were already done and doing their own things, she decided that it was a good time to actually sharpen her sword like Petra was always telling her to, even as she watched Ivor with a smile. Said alchemist had already gotten a late start in the first place after finishing an experimental potion she wasn’t entirely sure he _hadn’t_ spent the past two days working nonstop on.

She wasn't even all that sure what kind of smile it was.

Maybe it was fond, because she really was happy that he seemed to be getting better, seemed to be acting more—

Well, she never knew what he was like before the Order lied to everyone, before they kicked him out, and he certainly wasn't acting exactly like the angry, bitter man who'd stolen from Petra, because while he could definitely still be both, he...

Hmm...

He seemed more alive. Healthier, not quite as close to burning out after running on nothing but a simmering, seething desire for revenge for so long.

And she thought it was fair to call him a friend, at this, point, after all he had done for them and after he had moved into the Order's new temple as their alchemist, so maybe it was a fond smile.

But maybe, just maybe, it was a little sad too.

Because no one should've known what it was like to be so low that just getting to eat made them so happy.

And at the same time, maybe that was what made it even less of a surprise that it was time for a chat.

None of her friends ever seemed to like seeing her sad.

(Jesse knew some of her smiles seemed sadder than they should've, but she'd gotten better at making them look happy anyways, happy enough that the crowds never noticed.)

"What's up?" But Petra wasn’t one of the crowds, and she’d always been good at picking out things like that.

Still, she didn’t ask about the detail so much as the smile itself, and Jesse was allowed to ignore most of it in favor of gesturing over to where Ivor was sitting, halfway through a meal.

"He acts like he's never been fed in his life."

It was a large dining room, far bigger than they really needed, and they were far enough away that they didn’t have to worry about whispering, but her words were soft all the same.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing he's as good at hunting as he is." Petra’s voice didn’t have the same happy-sad combo Jesse’s did, not as soft or quiet, so much as it was almost teasingly begrudging and a little grumpy, still too light to be stern. "Otherwise the market would be in trouble."

Jesse stopped sharpening her sword in favor of giving Petra a flat look, already betrayed by her own smile, gentle but not hidden.

"Petra."

"What? I'm serious. He's a guy who's barely been getting enough to survive for _years_." And then it clicked, as Petra gave a chuckle that sounded just a little weaker than hers normally did, sounded off in a way Jesse knew Petra herself would just brush off as exasperation. "Do you have any idea what that does to somebody? Our pantry's in danger."

Because no one should've ever known what that was like, but... Petra did.

Huh.

Jesse wondered if maybe she missed that, if Petra had some sort of similar happy binge on everything edible or made it clear she was tempted and Jesse never saw it, because she was a little too wrapped up in her own grief, when everyone else was so happy and they started being treated like heroes, or because everything felt like such a blur at the time.

Well then.

Two birds, one stone. She wasn't going to let it slip by her this time, especially because Petra was also right that it was about time to restock their pantry anyway.

"...that's a good point." Jesse straightened up, rolling her shoulders, now aching from what she hadn’t realized was that much pressure, as she glanced at Ivor before looking back at Petra with a wide grin. "Okay, so we're going into the market."

Petra blinked before raising an eyebrow, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall with one of her shoulders.

"...do you know how ridiculous the prices get this time of year?"

Also a good point.

But Jesse wasn't going to just let Ivor go hungry, and letting him unwittingly eat them out of house and home sounded just about as fun as letting him limit himself when there was no reason to.

"I thought you were an expert trader!" Jesse gave another large smile, knowing that Petra rolling her eyes didn't mean she didn't want to defend her pride anyway. "Besides, we’re heroes, there has to be some kind of discount for that; I trust you to get us the best prices. Come on, you can get whatever you want— I'm pretty sure he's not picky, and we've got enough for the others if they don't like whatever it is."

Their pantry, despite Ivor's best efforts, had enough in it that it could probably last them all comfortably for at least two months if they were suddenly somehow unable to get food and all somehow possessed by some kind of ravenous hunger the entire time.

And they'd both seen Ivor eat Silverfish meat without any problem, so it wasn't as if either of them had much to worry about when it came to what he was willing to eat.

"Thanks." The word was dry, drawled, with more than enough sarcasm behind it that Jesse didn't have to look to see Petra was smiling and to know that it was one of those gentle, tired smiles she didn't give often enough. "You're coming with me, right? Because I'm not explaining why I'm buying the market out of stock all by myself."

Jesse paused, lips twisting into a smile even as she turned, raising an eyebrow but not at the already expected smile.

"Oh? I thought Ivor was the one we had to worry about."

"I'm not shopping like this more than once. I'm too cheap and it would kill me."

Jesse wasn’t one for blowing their budget either, but sometimes splurging a little didn’t do any real harm, especially not when she knew it would be good in the end for her friends.

"And me being there helps how?"

"Come on. Just play along and be emotional support."

"I thought you didn't need emotional support." Jesse continued as Petra’s gaze briefly turned flat, cutting off whatever retort Petra was about to give. "I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I'll come. If we go now, we might be able to surprise Ivor for dinner."

Petra seemed to relax at the idea, expression softening even as she raised an eyebrow again.

"...Jesse, he's been surprised by regularly available full meals. He might have a heart attack when he sees what you bring home."

“What _we_ bring home. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” Jesse glanced down at her newly sharpened sword, the twisting glow from the enchantments shimmering even brighter as she turned it, making a mental note to put it back in the armory for training later before they went. Her grin turned toothy at Petra’s groan as Jesse turned to her. “It’s time to do some shopping.”


	302. Misdirection

It’s a nice place.

Golden sunlight trickles down the valley, over the hills that surround it and through the lush green grasses, long and untamed as they sway in the cool breeze, and reddish bushes, thorns too young to be anything other than flimsy and berries nothing more than little green buds.

The river that cuts through the center is wide but shallow, reflecting light onto the nearby trees and rocks as schools of tiny red and orange fish begin to get slower even as the water stays steady, becoming harder and harder to see the lower the sun sets behind the mountain. The ground is soft, but dry enough that all it does is make their footsteps quiet.

It's also the best time to find their treasure.

The only problem is that Jack doesn't quite have them there yet.

Which is a shame, because the area is beyond beautiful at sunset, and it's the perfect setting for finding some sort of secret treasure.

(Or doing anything, really. It's a shame he's not one of the more artistic types, or he just might get a few ideas from this place. Still, it's easier to let Vos be the creative one.)

If people hid treasure where it was obviously a good place to, though, it would be far too easy to find that loot, which also means trying to find areas where cool stuff could be based on hunches and general aesthetic alone may not be the best strategy.

It would've been nice if he realized that back at the map booth and not out in the middle of nowhere, pretty as it happens to be.

Be that as it may, Jack's got a right to his pride, and he looks around before putting his own map back in his pack, hum disinterested but loud enough for the other two to hear him.

"That's interesting."

He doesn't have to turn around to know that Vos and Sammy are exchanging a look, and he doesn't have to see it to know it's the same one they've been giving him on and off  for most of the day.

"What is?"

And it feels, almost, like Sammy's waiting for him to tell them a secret she and Vos have known the whole time.

Which is that he has no idea where they are or where the treasure they set out to find is.

They know him too well. He gets the feeling he won't be able to talk his way out of being teased to the Nether and back for this one, but he can try. They should've known better than to trust him as the navigator in the first place, really.

Sammy always likes joking about how he can't find his way out of a paper bag.

(She would've been the one leading them, if Jack hadn't insisted on doing it for once. So what if they didn't have a map? He could get them there just fine.

He's _definitely_ not getting away from the teasing this time.)

"I can officially say we’re lost." Jack rubs the back of his neck as he turns to face them, almost more looking at the trees than he is them. "I really thought I knew where we were going."

"Nice to know it's official now." Sammy raises an eyebrow, hands at her hips as she smiles. "Still think tossing away our chance at getting the map was a good idea?"

"We didn't toss our chance away—"

"You just thought we didn't need it and were too cheap to buy it." On one hand, they're not angry, but Vos's smug, if soft, smile might be worse.

He wishes he could argue.

But he doesn't like lying to them, and when they're right, they're right.

He just wishes they weren't so right all the time.

"...I didn't think we needed it."

And Jack knows it sounds pathetic, given how utterly lost they are right now, but the map had been ridiculously expensive. The man who tried to sell it to them might as well have been trying to rob them, especially since the treasure's only been rumored to exist.

Good enough chances all the same for them to go looking for it, but not good enough for Jack to willingly get swindled.

"There's one thing we don't need a map for." Sammy relaxes even as she turns on the mass of leaves and branches beside her, leaving her back to Jack and Vos.

"What?"

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, the bushes rustle, and Jack realizes again just how late it is, the grass looking almost blue.

Oh, right. Sunset.

That.

The bushes rustle again, one long, furry, spindly leg appearing this time from one of the denser patches of growth, seven more legs following immediately after, red eyes glowing in what little light's left and fangs gnashing before it lets out a nasty hiss.

It's not the biggest spider he's ever seen, but numbers have always been more worrying than size when it comes to spiders, and he's not surprised when two similar ones trail behind it.

It's not another second before the three of them are lined up, side to side, backing away as the spiders pick up steam.

"Trouble." Sammy's grin turns toothy as she readies her bow, glancing around the area while her grip stays steady. Three spiders is just the start and they all know it. "Ready for some company?"

"Well, I don't suppose Jack could lose it for us." Vos takes another step back as he readies a dull stone sword in one hand. (The dangerous part is the fizzing potion in his other, bubbling liquid partly sickly green and partly pitch black. Jack almost feels bad for the spiders, but there's something undeniably satisfying about the way they freeze as Vos fires. Just as satisfying is the way they hiss as they dissolve into nothing.)

Still, they're enjoying this way too much. Everyone makes mistakes. Just to get away from the teasing, going on a solo adventure next time doesn't sound half bad.

"You guys need to live a little." Jack draws his sword, keeping his gaze on the rather large, hairy spider —just because size isn't usually a factor doesn't mean it can't be worrying— that's decided to descend from the thicker part of the tress. His tone, thankfully, is sarcastic enough without what's a much needed eye roll. "Really, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Apparently too cheap to get the map to take us there." An arrow ends up jammed in the zombie's head before it can take another step, sent gurgling and groaning to the ground before it goes silent, and Jack repays the favor by slicing a creeper down the middle before it can get any closer to Sammy. "I swear, you'd be so lost without us, Jack."

Glass shatters as it hits the ground, Jack rolling his eyes at Sammy even as he gives Vos a thumbs up. The potion isn't so much for healing them as it is giving them a boost after the long trip they've had, and the rush of power is appreciated.

"Don't flatter yourselves. I can find my way around just fine without you two nagging at me."

He has a feeling, as he tumbles behind a tree to avoid getting hit by a string of arrows while bones begin to clack and click, that he knows who's footing the bill at whatever inn they end up at tonight.


	303. Ill (Jesse/Lukas)

Being a hero didn't keep anybody in the Order from being sick.

If anything, dealing with dangerous, new materials, environments, and people regularly meant it was probably likelier that something or other would end up getting them sick.

So it wasn't all that surprising that they all ended up getting a cold. It wasn't anything serious, for most of them.

Of course, Jesse always seemed to find a way to be the exception.

Everybody else had already gotten it and dealt with the annoying symptoms by the time things got worse for Jesse. Scratchy throats and runny noses weren't fun, so they all took their potions and rested as many days as Ivor suggested.

They would've made sure Jesse had done the same if they'd known she was sick.

But almost everybody, save for Ivor, had been miserable in their rooms, and Jesse was smart enough to stay busy, also doing the dumbest thing she could and trying to pick up the slack for everyone while doing too good a job at hiding her own sniffles and how rough her own voice was getting by not being around and being too busy to talk to anyone.

Ivor had checked on her more than once, but they weren't long visits and he had his hands full as it was with the people who were willing to admit that they were sick.

That didn't make it any nicer a surprise that, when everyone was either recovering or all better, he'd found Jesse collapsed at her desk with a fever.

(The lecture she got from him was sharp, but it definitely wasn't the only one, once the rest of them found out what she'd done. Ivor's potions could do a lot, but they weren't cure-alls, and it could've been a lot worse if she hadn't collapsed when she did or if Ivor hadn't found her then.

What made the whole thing even worse was that they all knew that, if Jesse wasn't nearly bedridden, she'd try to get back to work as soon as she woke back up.)

After they'd all gotten that out of their systems, though, not helped by the many times Jesse had put her health last before and done stupid things like this so Ivor wouldn't spend time worrying about her that he could worrying about the others, none of them wanted Jesse to be in pain.

And if they'd all been feeling awful, Jesse was downright _miserable_.

They brought her chocolates, tea, whatever potion Ivor insisted she should take, would talk to her when she wasn't getting some much needed sleep, and cuddled if she asked. Jesse may not have liked asking for help, but she was a cuddle bug normally, and it was pretty obvious when she was feeling terrible just how much she needed it.

It wasn't like Lukas knew exactly what everyone did or agreed to, but he was pretty sure he was the one she cuddled with most.

(Not that he was ridiculously proud or smug of that, but yes he was.)

Sure, there was a tiny chance he'd catch the cold again, but as much as he didn't like Jesse pushing herself so far that she had no choice but to stay in bed, he didn't want her to suffer alone either.

And that meant that taking a break from his work was even easier when he had a good reason.

The door to Jesse’s room creaked open, the bottom of the heavy wood brushing against the carpet as torchlight briefly trickled into the room from the hall. Lukas shut the door behind him as quickly as he could once he was in the room, the door closing with a quiet click as the light returned to being a warm glow from underneath the door.

He also knew better than to bother her when she was asleep, and bringing her a cup of tea for when she woke up seemed to be just as appreciated as anything else.

Whatever daylight may or may not have been trying just as hard to get into the room as the torchlight was blocked out by the heavy curtains covering the large and usually bright windows, the room dim at best and everything inside it as good as shadows as Lukas blinked at the dark, waiting several moments for his eyes to adjust before beginning to walk again.

It was a good thing Jesse always kept her room clean and that the path to her bead was fairly straightforward.

The bundle of blankets on the bed twisted with a mumble at the brief light, Jesse's hair barely visible. Lukas's footsteps were quiet as he walked over to the bed, the clink of the tea cup as he set it down beside one of the books on her bedside table far louder than his feet could ever be against the carpet, but it didn't surprise him to find Jesse blinking up at him before he could turn.

"How do you feel?"

Jesse blinked up at him again before giving a weak shrug, the mass of blankets bundled around her shifting as she did.

"I’m a blanket burrito."

Lukas glanced down at the variety of fleecy blankets, half of which the others had added to Jesse's bed.

Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Yes you are. Mind letting me join?"

If she did, she'd say so, and he'd get that too, with how nestled in she already looked.

"Mph..." Jesse twisted, almost squinting up at him as she lifted her head, looking cuter than she probably meant to as she gave a small smile before relaxing back against the mattress. "...okay. But only if we get to cuddle."

Somehow that seemed more like a win-win than a compromise, but who was he to argue?

"You drive a hard bargain, Jesse." Lukas was already starting to peel back the blankets, Jesse sinking even deeper into the mattress and away from the air as she relaxed her grip, the rest of her tensing and her knuckles white as she decided to instead cling to the other half of the blankets. "But okay."

Lukas didn't have to wonder about how he was going to make up making her cold, though.

He was hardly under the blankets before she'd abandoned the safety of the fuzzy blankets to latch onto him, arms wrapped around his waist as she nuzzled him. It was slow, maybe, but he didn't miss the goosebumps on her arms or the way she shivered as she seemed to be trying to pull herself even closer, relaxing a bit as he wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't seem to appreciate his icy feet as much, but the solution for that seemed to be wrapping her legs around his and fully melting into him once the blankets were snugly over them both.

"You're warm."

That was the fun thing about being sick, being hotter than the nether and still feeling icier than snow itself.

"And you're still burning up." Lukas shifted one of his arm, putting a hand to Jesse's head and still wincing at the fully expected heat. It may have mostly been Jesse's fault that she was like this, but it didn't keep him from wrapping the arm around Jesse again once he lowered his hand. His voice was gentler when he continued, smiling softly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Gonna take a while for that potion to take care of everything, huh?"

"Mm-hm." If she'd had more energy, it would've been closer to a groan than the exhausted little mumble it was and Lukas's smile got wider as he took a moment to settle better in the blankets.

"Goodnight Jesse."

He liked to think the following mumble was some kind of response, but it didn't really matter as long as she was comfortable, and, judging by the way Jesse squeezed him as she kept nuzzling him, she certainly seemed it.


	304. Madness

Madness knows no bounds.

That's a good general rule of thumb, when dealing with anybody who's got more supplies than most people know what to do with and just as many ideas, especially when said supplies can do considerable damage when used incorrectly and can do even more when used right.

Loathe as Ellegaard may be to admit it, some days, personal experience has taught her that inventors, herself maybe especially, can be just as mad as griefers. It isn't so much a case of different degrees of craziness as it is fields.

The distinction’s not as important as she sometimes likes to make it.

(This is, after all, coming from someone on her hands and knees tinkering with a system of shrill, stubborn pistons that’s far more complex than it needs to be, wearing coveralls covered in grease and redstone, just because she can and because rain always puts her in a more experimental mood.)

And Ellegaard has considerable... _experience_ with Magnus and his brand of insanity. On the better days she'll call it the learning kind, and on the worse ones she'll say it's an occupational hazard.

No matter how she wants to look at it, though, there's no changing that he's very much a part of her regular schedule. The other Order members are too, of course, but usually she doesn't have to wonder about whether or not they're plotting to blow up her inventions, unless Gabriel's messing around with Magnus and Magnus is still there in those situations too, usually as the bad influence/inspiration.

That means few things are new, even if she still has to wonder what he'll try to throw at her again.

But even if it isn't new, when Magnus enters the room even more quietly than most normal people, the click of the door quiet but not as quiet as it would be if he was trying to be sneaky, it's different in all the little ways that are downright unsettling. Like the lack of any comment as he walks by her, not even nudging any of her tools aside as he does just to mess with her, before sitting on one of the crates of redstone she finished filling that morning, sparkling splotches of leftover, dusty red dotting the sides and lining the top.

Maybe she wasn't expecting him back for a while, given that it's also not uncommon for Magnus to just wander around for a few days. It's not quite the training they need to beat a dragon, but he always shows up and does his best for that too, and who's she to argue with self-care?

Except whatever care he tried doesn't seem to have worked this time, even for his usual.

He looks like he feels every bit like the drizzle outside, and as much as Ellegaard enjoys listening to the steady drum of raindrops against the window, it's unnerving to see Magnus looking every bit soaked to the bone, like it actually bothers him.

He's done this before, walked or limped back in after going out for a few hours, either covered in soot and ash or still smoking most times, but he's always laughing when he first gets back, or snickering, or just smirking and looking far too proud of himself and whatever chaos he wreaked. All being sopping wet has ever done before is made sure he can't still be smoking while he cackles about whatever he just pulled off.

So it's, maybe, a little concerning, just a bit, when he trudges in, dripping and still managing to look like he's rolled around in a fire pit, as well as frowning.

In fact, it's not even a good frown. Notch knows they've all seen better scowls from Soren, when he's mad at his builds, or Ellegaard herself, when her machines are being... less than cooperative.

(Machines and people alike tend to be far more cooperative when a good wrench and a few threats get involved.)

Ellegaard knows Magnus can do a better frown, even on his worse days, but it seems he's forgotten that. At least, it makes him look all the more pitiful, something he's never been fond of being. The mere idea of being seen as pathetic is usually enough to get him roaring with laughter again.

Yet there he sits.

Pouting.

In Ellegaard's experience, the only thing worse than a scheming griefer is a pouting one.

(Which means it's really in the best interest of her inventions, not to mention her already questionable sanity, that she shut this down as soon as possible, before Magnus does something they all regret, and it works just as well as motivation as it does an alibi.)

So she doesn't even bother with the melodramatic sigh as she gets to her feet, picking up one of the rags by her feet as she does to wipe off, or at least smear around, the excess oil and redstone clinging to her gloves.

And he doesn't even look up at her.

"What's wrong?"

With him still not looking at her as he responds, she'd be happier about writing it off as a mood if there was some sort of genuine emotion behind the grumble. The problem? There isn't.

"Nothing's wrong. Leave me alone."

She almost considers leaving him to it, but this is actually concerning.

Besides that, few things make for as obvious a cry for help as limping back to her lab while she’s busy inventing, something only Magnus ever dares to interrupt anyway, to sit like a kicked puppy.

Ivor’s always been better at helping people with emotions, and they both know it.

"You're moping." She sighs as she lifts her goggles, letting them rest on her forehead as she crosses her arms, the spotty rag dangling from her hand as she resists the urge to frown herself. The red tint of her goggles, as it turns out, wasn't doing as much to make him look miserable as she thought they were. In fact, the lack of color might just be making him look drearier. "What's wrong?"

And oh Notch, he actually takes a moment to respond, and the heavy sigh that precedes it is almost just as bad.

"I am a disaster and I have a sneaking suspicion that I always will be."

Ellegaard also knows tired when she hears it. There's nothing bitter in the words, far more precise than he ever normally bothers making them, and what sounds like exhausted acceptance is far worse than any grumbling.

"That bad?" He doesn't even glance up at her, mouth twisted into a thin line that looks wholly unnatural on him. Whatever humor Ellegaard was trying for drops, her shoulders slumping a bit even as she raises an eyebrow. "Notch, you're serious. What happened?"

"...you know that fire they just had down in Mauragon?"

"The mining village at the base of the mountain? What about it–-" News travels quickly between the various small villages surrounding the temple, but there wasn't much to say when it was apparently taken care of so quickly and with no reported injuries. Ellegaard had thought it had just been some lightning, given their current weather, but now... well, it clicks, and maybe it shouldn't as easily as it does, but that doesn't change how fast everything snaps together. "...oh."

For a moment, the storm outside sounds impossibly louder.

"Yeah. Oh." Magnus's elbows are on top of his knees as he hunches over, fingers barely touching the edge of his mask as he holds his head up. "I just wanted to buy some TNT, but there was a stack of them on display, and I was lighting a cig when I tripped."

At least it explains a lot.

"You... tripped." She doesn't say anything to let him know how easy it is to believe and how hard at the same time, Magnus's luck and his usual agility apparently once again at odds, but she's sure her tone takes care of that for her. And, of course, if said luck is playing into things the way it normally does... "Right by the display?"

He's alive, which is more than most people would be if they'd been in the same situation, and it's the far kinder side of his luck.

(Not that she's ever one to discount ability, and she knows Magnus has plenty, for better or worse. It's just as much his experiences coming into play, and she doesn't doubt he got himself as safe as he could as quickly as he could, given the few seconds he had to react. He's still standing, and not just a pile of burned parts and ash, so there's not really any other possibilities)

The sharper side absolutely explains why he looks like he set himself on fire, though.

"Yup. Turns out a lot of the shop was made of wool. Cheaper that way." She doesn't snicker, the way she wants to for a second as the mental image completes itself, but she does wince. That sounds about right, given how these things tend to go and how... _Magnus_ he tends to be during them. "Nobody got hurt or nothing, but... it was close. Not allowed back."

Nobody got hurt, he says, re-lighting a cigarette that looks less burned out than he does, and Ellegaard has to resist rolling her eyes.

"In the shop?"

"In Mauragon."

Well then.

That explains the brooding about it.

Brooding, by the by, is another word for trying to bottle up emotions, failing, and pouting about it, with an optional existential crisis or two. Ellegaard would know, she's done plenty of it herself.

"...I thought we were trying to be heroes to protect people." She uses the cautious, observational tone usually reserved for machines that seem to be ready to jump the line to malfunctioning but haven’t yet. There’s supposed to be some humor there, but she gets the feeling it falls dead on its feet anyhow. "Not ruin their stock and blow up stores."

"I know." He groans, rubbing at his temples as he does. "I was going to pay for the stuff and everything too. _You_ try being a pyromaniac and not cause trouble everywhere you go."

"Did you help fix the damage?"

There’s a pause.

"Yeah."

That's that. He screwed up, fixed things up, and was banned from someplace else.

Which leaves her with taking care of the existential crises. Honestly, it may be something of her specialty at this point, at least when it comes to Magnus. And she _does_ have some things she'd like to take care of, Ellegaard muses as she glances at the still greasy, still squeaking pistons.

"...you know what _I_ think always cheers you up?"

And he glances up at her, lips twitching up in what actually looks like a smile.

It looks like the world won't be ending today, then.

Good. She still has far too many inventions she needs to get to before that can happen.

"Blowing random crap up in the desert?"

There's an art, a science, too, to how long a pause should be held, for dramatics sake if nothing else. There's something to be said for presentation.

Ellegaard waits one moment, and then another, before nodding.

"Blowing random crap up in the desert." It's likely just her imagination, the way her functioning machines seem to hum in agreement. "And guess who has a few failed inventions that need to be taken care of?"

And the smile twists into the even more familiar grin and he looks so much more like the Magnus she knows.

"You're the best, Ellie."

It's easier to grin back when the knot in her chest loosens.

"I know."

Because there's something inherently insane in being a griefer, and something just as mad in being an engineer. There's the constant danger, the constant toeing the line, the genius that could just as easily be called lunacy.

And there's something to be said, for knowing that and still combining those kinds of insanity, and the easiest thing to call it is _fun_.


	305. Perfection

There's a skill to being perfect.

There has to be, with how much everybody wants it.

And Stella's found that, largely, it has to do with realizing that no one is and that the only way to make other people see perfection is by faking it until they do. There's a lot to be said for confidence, earned and real or not, and most people respect it, begrudgingly or otherwise.

Being in charge of an entire city, for instance, takes backbone, even if Stella's more than willing to concede that she only has one when the people around her don't. Bodyguards have their purposes, after all.

Taking items from people, including renowned heroes who have saved more worlds than she can imagine, and keeping them, using what would otherwise seem like interesting little trinkets in a way that makes them some of the most valuable items she's ever come across, takes even more of one.

Another thing to remember is that desperation can be confused for backbone, especially when it's intentionally disguised that way.

(Thank Notch.)

No one's dumb enough to bad talk her when she's around them, not here. It's her city. Whether it’s possible they also stay silent because some of her people are really that sickeningly sweet and unbelievably nice as to still not want to talk negatively about the person who's stolen from them or because they're desperate themselves to stay on her good side, she seriously doubts anyone's the former.

Outside the city, though?

She hasn't been outside it since she had it built. What's there for her?

Who is she when she isn't here?

Unless the fame and glory out there manages to dump itself in her lap, she knows she's no adventurer.

If her city needs protecting, if there's something she somehow can do, she always will, but... that's why she hires people. She's not particularly good at anything herself, beyond figuring out how some people work and using that to her advantage, and she knows that.

(And maybe... well, everybody's a little clumsy, a little too wide-eyed and well-meaning when they get started, and as 'cute' as Stella's called the few stories she's heard, never ever letting anyone know that she has new-spawn stories of her own, maybe... she didn't know that, at first. Maybe there was a time when she just wanted to do her best, only to find out she didn't have anything to be good at.

She's never been fast or good at crafting, everything she made shoddy or flimsy in the way everybody's first items are, and nobody was interested in that. If anyone knew how poor her crafting skills are now, they'd just laugh or pity her, and she's come too far to go back to that again.

But... maybe there was one thing she was good at back then, beyond manipulation. Back then, she didn't even have manipulation.

There wasn't a need for it.

It's never hard to point out a new-spawn, somebody new to everything natural and normal, who's amazed by the simplest of things and always wants to know more.

So everybody's always impressed by a new-spawn who learns quickly, who fits in fast, who doesn't take forever trying to figure the world out. Stella may not genuinely have been good at perfection from the start, but faking it's always been a talent.

Trading her way to the top, from things she was lucky to scavenge and find to good clothes and a nice place to live that didn't have her surrounded by monsters every night, was easy enough, and so was acting like she'd always had it. Most of the time, if not always, people new to the world find somebody who's been around longer, somebody who's willing to teach them and help them, and that's how most of them stay alive.

Stella, spawning by the edge of a city right before nightfall, had a terrifying first night and found just as many people as she was found by— that's to say, none.

Acting like she knew it all when she didn't worked poorly back then, and she's given up hope of it doing her any favors beyond keeping up the image of perfection. That's still entirely a good reason for doing it, when it's all that makes her who she is, but...

There was nothing more crushing than realizing she wasn't making as many friends as she thought she was back then, even when she started having nice things she could tempt other people with.

Back then, she just thought she was being nice to people who cared about her.

"She’s just my type. Too bad she’s annoying."

It was always essentially the same, just as cold and harsh and biting as the first time.

It never even had to be about romance with any of them. Sometimes, all they were talking about was friendship, but something about Stella automatically turned them away. She was too annoying to love, too annoying to befriend, and too annoying to try and help get past all of that when it became clear Stella wasn't going to make an automatic switch, wasn't going to change instantly.)

She doesn't leave her city because she _becomes_ nothing out there.

And she can't let anybody leave for too long because that's all she'll become to them too once they're free and not trying so desperately to be her friends. If she lets them go, they won't come back.

Just removing the strings won't make them like her anymore; she knows better than to be fooled by that.

(It's not fair.)

And she knows better than to think there's anything about her personally that can be loved.

At this point, what's there to like, to stick around for, other than what she can offer? Who she is has never mattered. She's always been too mean, too bossy, too annoying for anyone's likes. But she's always been able to give the best, and she doesn't even have to share that to get people to stick around. Promising it, holding it over their heads, works so much better than giving them what they want.

Because when she does, they leave. There's no point in staying, for them, once they get what they want.

So the key is just promising them more, more and more and more and whatever else is enough to make their hearts burst at the thought, and Stella will always have more because that's the best part of her; what she has.

A leader can be loved, even if there's nothing likable about who they are as a person.

All she has to do to achieve that is accept that she can't possibly be human. People are lovable for their personalities, for their skills, don't have to bribe and cheat to force people to like them in the first place.

And yet, being human doesn't mean being perfect.

Really, being human just risks taking perfection away, corrupting and ruining it.

Being human won't do her any good, not now. She's come so far, too far, and nobody likes her for who she is. She's done so much that they never will. But she doesn't have to be human to be loved. Bought admiration, kindness and admiration that's faked and lied and taken, is the best she can get at this point.

And Stella's never settled for anything but the best.


End file.
